


One Last Spark

by ImaginationCubed



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: ADHD, Abuse, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Angst, Anxiety Disorder, Bilingual Lance (Voltron), Bisexual Lance (Voltron), Cuban Lance (Voltron), Depression, Eating Disorders, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Emotional Manipulation, Female Pronouns for Pidge | Katie Holt, Gaslighting, Gay Keith (Voltron), It's Not Endgame Though, Keith and Shiro are Adoptive Siblings, Korean Keith (Voltron), Lance (Voltron) is a Mess, Lance (Voltron)-centric, Like this is going to be about 200k, Lotor/Lance stuff, M/M, Mental Health Issues, Minor Matt Holt/Shiro, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, S L O W B U R N, Self-Harm, Slow Burn, Trans Female Pidge | Katie Holt, Trans Keith (Voltron), Unreliable Narrator
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-06-24
Updated: 2018-10-15
Packaged: 2018-11-18 07:12:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 26
Words: 151,120
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11286267
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ImaginationCubed/pseuds/ImaginationCubed
Summary: Everyone had always told Lance his twenties were meant to be the best time of his life. A time to travel, party, and just have fun while he was still young. So why is he feeling as miserable as ever, stuck in a dead end, and struggling to keep his life together and functional?Dealing with mental health problems was never going to be easy, Lance knew that; depression, anxiety, and ADHD never take a day off. Although, when your friends all understand in their own ways, it's not so lonely.But his ex-boyfriend from five years ago moving back to town and living with one of his best friends? No, no, no, no, no, that's just one too many things his life has decided to throw at him without asking and there is absolutely no way he was about to open himself up again to the same man who he made the mistake of being so vulnerable with. No way at all.Oh, Lance has a few choice words to exchange with whatever puppetmaster is putting him up to this.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This fic will be dealing with heavy topics with more than one character and any necessary trigger warnings will either be put in the tags and/or be put in the beginning notes of a chapter. Keep in mind that this story is told from a limited 3rd person point of view, therefore the story is told through the lens of someone dealing with different mental health issues, and be careful if that could possibly bother your own mental health.
> 
> On another note, I'd like to thank my amazing beta reader [EcstaticAce](http://archiveofourown.org/users/EcstaticAce/profile). Go check out their stuff if you have a chance!
> 
> If you'd like fanfiction and other writing updates you can follow [my Tumblr](http://www.imaginationcubed.tumblr.com)!

Utensils coated in customers’ saliva clattered against plates covered in half-eaten food as the evidence of the dinner rush piled up in the kitchen sink. What else was there to dread working in a restaurant besides the dinner rush, rude customers, customers who didn’t tip, customers who didn’t pay, the—

  
Okay, maybe there was a lot. But, the perks of having your father run your place of work paid off sometimes. Especially when you could convince him that there was too much homework to do on the days where laziness hit full force. Unfortunately, Lance Fuentes was twenty-two with no job relevant to his intended degree. The homework excuse stopped working the moment he gave up on receiving his cap and gown. So here he was, working dinner rush, busing tables, and washing dishes to make up for the employee who called off five minutes before their shift.

  
“Papi, I’ve been here since ten. Can I go now?”

  
“No Lance.”

  
“Come on. I’ve been here eight hours. _Ocho horas_ , papi.” Lance complained, switching into his native tongue to repeat his sentence for emphasis.

  
“And I got here at opening. If you don’t like the job, find a new one. You have a chance to get an education. Use it.”

  
“You know I tried! Make David do it! He’s on winter break.”

  
“Stay for another hour and you can leave.”

  
“Thank you papi!” Lance cheered as he performed a small victory dance.

  
“But you have to work the whole hour. Don’t let me find you slacking off.”

  
“You got it!”

  
An hour later the front door of the building was swinging behind him and he participated in the rush hour traffic as an agonizing itch that could only be cured by taking off his work uniform seized his attention span. Honestly, the turn into the driveway was one of the most relieving actions he had taken that day. Actually, he took that back. Changing into his old university sweatshirt and switching into a pair of jeans was a hundred times better than pulling into his driveway ten minutes ago. Moments later he collapsed back onto his bed, comforter and pillows practically engulfing him as he took the opportunity to scroll through his buildup of messages. The hoard of texts and various social media notifications always had a way of managing to accumulate during his shifts at work, although when his phone found a reason to alert him, it was often only to let him know someone he followed posted a new tweet.

  
The patter of small feet against the floor sounded from the corner of the room, only interrupted by the owner of those feet leaping from the ground to his bed. She stepped on and across his chest, only stopping to take her spot in the crook of Lance’s neck.

  
“Hey Blue,” He reached out to take her into his arms, rubbing his cheek against her fur, “Did everyone treat you well while I was gone girl?” She meowed in response to her owner’s sudden cuddling, only to purr once his fingers reached her cheek, “Yeah, I know what you like.”

Shiro The Hero  
  
Lance, it's almost 9. Are you still coming over?  
  


  
Shit. Of course he still had plans. It’s Sunday, and he’d be damned if he was going to miss another episode of The Walking Dead. Last week, he was cooped up at work cleaning dishes, because the dishwasher called off last minute. Lance still has not forgiven him for it. It was a top priority to extract revenge on his co-worker for the incident. He still had not figured out when, where, or how, but he would soon. Nothing was keeping him from his show again this week.

Shiro The Hero  
  
Yeah! I'm still coming. Nothing's keeping me away from The Walking Dead tonight!  
  


  
He put Blue down to the side of him and searched for the keys that he had just tossed to the side ten minutes ago. He really needed to get a key hook or something similar, because this should not happen to him as often as it does.

  
Once his keys were in his hand again, he made it out the door in a rush, only stopping to make sure Blue was fed and her litter box had been cleaned. Sure, he could let his sister do it, but Blue only deserved the best of treatments and he just couldn’t trust his little sister to put in all one hundred percent when it came to Blue’s care.

  
By the time he twisted the keys into his ignition, his phone vibrated again.

  


Shiro The Hero  
  
If you want to catch up on last week’s episode you better hurry before Matt decides he wants to watch something else before the new episode.  
  


  
And with that message he put getting to Shiro’s place at the the top of his to-do list, almost forgetting to stop at a stop sign in the process. He parked the car inches from the curb and bolted to the door. He buzzed himself in and swiftly made his way to the building’s elevator, pushing the correct buttons to Shiro and Matt’s floor. He then rapped his knuckles against the hardwood door and stood by, anticipating a response.

  
Matt, Shiro’s roommate, answered his knocking clad in mismatching socks, exercise shorts, and an oversized t-shirt which may or may not have belonged to Shiro. He couldn’t really tell, especially with the kinds of outfits Matt managed to put together on weekends.

  
“Well, are you coming in?” Matt asked with a small wave of his hand.

  
“Yeah, just distracted by the disaster you call an outfit.”

  
“At least I’m comfy as hell. Comfort over style, my friend.”

  
“Is that how you introduced yourself to Shiro’s parents?”

  
“Matt, stop bothering Lance!” A familiar voice called from inside the next room.

  
“I’m not doing anything,” Matt replied in defense.

  
“Don’t listen to him Shiro, he’s a bully!” Lance retorted.

  
“I’m going to put on How it’s Made for the rest of the night if you two don’t get in here!” Another voice added.

  
“It’s not even your TV Katie! Or your house!”

  
“I’ll just tell mom that you were mean to your baby sister.”

  
“Baby?! You’re eighteen!”

  
“Not in mom’s eyes!”

  
“At least close the door if you two aren’t coming back inside!” Shiro encouraged, still comfortably inside the apartment.

  
He followed Matt inside and to the next room. Matt took his place on the couch next to Shiro, whom Lance could almost win a court case proving him and Matt had a lazy day at home. His hair had very obviously chosen its new layout all on its own, especially the white frosted tips of his bangs which had made their new home all around Shiro’s forehead. His outfit consisting of sweatpants did not help the case when Katie was leaning her back on Shiro’s side, clad in denim jeans and a green, cotton baseball shirt. The contrast between the two only emphasized the obvious lazy day outfit. Lance seated himself to the right of the youngest of the three on the couch before speaking.

  
“Still doing homework? It’s winter break.”

  
“Nope, writing a program to run the robot I’m working on at home. And,” The Youtube video streaming through the television switched as she paused her sentence, “maybe I’m mirroring my laptop to the TV too.”

  
“I can’t believe you’re the one who put on a video about ‘secret menus’ at fast food places.” Lance peaked over his friend’s shoulder.

  
“Can we take a moment to just understand why anyone would want to eat something called a ‘McGangbang’?” Shiro interrupted.

  
“Who cares about the name? You can’t just have a McDouble and a McChicken together! You can’t make them both be something they’re not. You have to accept them both for who they already are.” Lance argued, letting his hands move up and down to communicate the utter blasphemy of such an invention. Even the concept itself was a crime.

  
“But if you like them both, why not have them together?” Matt countered.

  
“Because that’s wrong and you know it! It’s like putting toppings on a pizza. You can’t just change it to your liking. Either you like it or you don’t, but you have to like it for who it is.”

  
“Are we watching last week’s episode before the new one or am I starting more discourse with another video?” Katie interjected before switching screens on her laptop.

  
“Please, The Walking Dead. I don’t think I can recover from knowing that people want to eat a food called the McGangbang.” Shiro pleaded, peeking over his roommate’s sister’s shoulder to ensure she was listening to his request.

  
“Fine, but I’m putting on Buzzfeed Unsolved after the new episode.” She replied as she illegally loaded the last episode.

 

* * *

 

 

“What do you mean he died?!” Lance shouted, his voice almost cracking as the credits rolled and the episode came to an unsatisfying close. His stare focused on the screen in front of him, body hunched forward and his jaw agape. Moments later, he turned his head to the oldest of the group, “Shiro, I think I need a hug.”

  
He opened and extended his arms, welcoming the other into a hug. He held his lower back and rubbed the rest with his prosthetic in a comforting motion, then patted between his shoulders before letting go of his friend.

  
“Just… how…”

  
“Zombies. That’s how.” Katie had already begun to reconnect her laptop to the Apple TV as she spoke.

  
“I said no Buzzfeed videos.” Shiro reminded.

  
“Relax. I'm putting on Lost Tapes.”

  
The twenty-two year old dropped his head onto Katie’s lap. “I thought he was going to make it out Pidge. I really did.” He said in a defeated tone.

  
“Lance, you’ve read the comics. You know what happens.” Matt interjected, shifting his position on the couch as he spoke.

  
“Not true. Sometimes the show deviates from the comics.” Lance replied in defence, “The games were different from the show.” A moment passed before he relaxed his body and let out a defeated sigh. He turned his attention to the television and shifted onto his side, “Maybe I should stick to shows where no one dies.”

  
“Lance, name one show you watch where people don’t die.”

  
“Shut up. Let me dream.”

  
“Quiet! I want to hear!” The youngest of the four demanded.

  
“Fine, fine.” Lance gave in. He adjusted his head on her lap before submitting to his friend’s plans for the rest of the night.

  
The rest of the night had gone by uneventful. Pidge seemed way too into her show for someone who loved science and engineering so much, but besides his friend getting way too into a mockumentary series, the night had continued in an ordinary manner.

  
Who was Lance kidding? Pidge getting way too into a mockumentary series was more ordinary than any of the four of them cared to admit.

  
Feet padded behind the couch and into the kitchen. Shiro’s cat was likely making his daily rounds of causing destruction, but strategically withholding the affection he obviously begged for by being a rebellious teenager in cat form. Two weeks ago, Lance had been taking a nap on Shiro and Matt’s couch when the little ball of fur decided it would be a wonderful idea to knock over a lamp sitting on the table next to Lance’s head. The cat, who had been affectionately named Batman, then proceeded to hightail it out of the room. Only to whine and cry once Lance had expressed more interest in returning to his nap than looking for the ever so active furball.

  
Oh, was Lance glad Blue was much more cuddly and reasonably affectionate than Shiro’s cat. Blue had much better judgement and always made a point to curl up with Lance whenever he slept or had a particularly bad day. Her white fur grazing against his skin and her blue eyes gazing back at him were always welcomed, especially when he needed some comfort that would be difficult to find in another person.

  
“Remember, the lactaid milk is in the fridge door! The regular milk is the one on the bottom shelf!” Shiro called out behind him. Was he jokingly calling out to his cat? There’s no one else home, so he had to be. Strange, but not too strange. Shiro did have a side to him that included some playfulness. The man did love memes after all, even if he refused to outright admit it to Lance. Being roommates with Matt Holt was enough to solidify the fact that Shiro did like to have some fun in his daily life as well. He brushed off his thoughts and refocused on the very low budget, already cancelled, TV show Pidge was streaming to the larger screen.

  
“Yeah, I already learned my lesson Takashi.” A voice replied from the kitchen area. The voice seemed to have an odd familiarity to it, as if he had talked to the person before a long time ago. He spent a moment probing his own brain, pondering who it could possibly be that answered Shiro. Wait—

  
The most crucial information of the situation had just flown completely over his head. Someone had actually answered his friend. Shiro was not talking to his cat.  
There was someone else in Shiro’s apartment with them.

  
Someone else was in the room besides the four of them on the couch. Someone who was lactose intolerant and just took it upon himself to sass Shiro as if he had known him for years. Someone Lance knew that he had apparently met before and talked to long enough that he remembered his voice. This person was obviously staying at Shiro and Matt’s for longer than a day and did not care to socialize with the rest of them. So, it wasn’t one of the members of their small group that had formed over the last few years, even though the only members currently missing were Hunk, Lance’s friend and roommate from college who often came home with him for shorter holiday breaks when the long trip home was anything but cost effective, and Allura and Coran, Shiro and Matt’s next door neighbors who lived with Allura’s father ever since he had gotten sick.

  
Who did he know? Who did he know? Who did he—

  
It clicked.

  
Keith.

  
He could feel the voice he was not even using catch in his throat at the realization. There was no way Keith was back in town. He had been gone for years. Ever since high school, Keith had left and hadn’t made any effort of contact to anyone, except maybe Shiro, but their relationship to one another was nothing like he what had had with him.

  
He wanted to sink into the couch, disappear, make sure Keith never noticed him. His heartbeat was practically in his head, mocking him, letting him know that everyone could probably sense his worry as if he wore his heart on his sleeve. He had to keep it in, he couldn’t let the evening be ruined because of him and his damn problems. The whole group was probably still silently angry at him for the time he had to pull over on the side of the highway during rush hour because he started shaking too much. He had caused them to all be late for their movie and the group had to see a later showing all because of him. He couldn’t even be useful for driving. They were just all being nice. Most likely pitying him and couldn’t bring themselves to be vocally upset.

  
He couldn’t ruin another hang out. He just had to wait. Wait until Keith went back into whatever room he had been in before. Then he could leave the apartment like a bat out of hell and avoid Keith and Shiro and Matt’s apartment until the man inevitably left again. He just had to make it through the next few minutes and then he could sprint to the door.

  
“Is that Lost Tapes?”

  
No.

  
“Which episode is it?” The excitement in Keith’s voice peaked as Lance heard him come closer from behind the couch.

  
Of course. Of course this would happen. Life was out to get him.

  
“The one about Mothman.” Pidge replied, elation kicking into her voice.

  
“No way! Shiro, you didn’t tell me your friends liked this stuff too! I would’ve come out sooner. Mind if I join?” Keith had already made his way over to the couch before the words had even left his mouth.

  
Okay. Life was definitely out to get him.

  
“Sure, there’s an empty seat over there.” Shiro motioned to the empty spot on the beige, L-shaped, couch.

  
Lance moved his face into Pidge’s thigh. Maybe if Keith didn’t see his face and he didn’t talk, he wouldn’t notice him. Just maybe life would help him out for once.

  
Keith hopped onto the open seat of the couch, giving him a full view of Lance and his hiding spot, “Lance?!”

  
Life was not just against him or out to get him. Life wanted him dead.

  
“H… Hey…” He managed to force the word out of his mouth. It felt as if the words had physically torn a hole through his throat to escape. The overwhelming sensation of a lack of oxygen and a closing throat had him fighting with himself to not clutch his chest in a desperate attempt to gain his ability to breathe back. The worst thing he could do is let everyone know that he was anxious beyond belief. All he had to do is get out. Make an excuse and head for the door. No one would know, no one would realize, and it would be fine.

  
“Lance, are you alright?” Pidge’s voice came through his thoughts, giving him something to attempt to direct his focus to. “You started shaking.”

  
He nodded frantically, pleading with any higher power that his friend would take it as a truthful answer and go back to watching her show.

  
He should have known that would not have been the case in any possible universe.

  
“Lance, lets go take a walk. Alright?” Shiro had already moved from his spot and came closer to Lance. He extended his hand and helped him off the couch. Once the younger of the two was on his feet, he quickly lead him out of the room without another word.

  
Disappointment. From Shiro. From everyone. From himself. He let his head hang low, eyes never looking up from the carpeted floor of the hallway connecting the floor of different apartments together. His eyes lost themselves in the gray pattern of lines that began to create squares and the way the fabric complimented the light steel blue walls, an attempt to forget the events currently happening.

  
“Lance?”

  
No response.

  
“Do you want to talk about it?”

  
Again, nothing.

  
A silence fell between them, as if the situation was stuck in limbo. Unable to improve and unable to worsen. The two stepped into the concrete stairwell, each taking a seat at the top step, side-by-side. Moments later Shiro spoke again to break the uncomfortable lack of chatter between the two friends, “Did I ever tell you this story about when Matt and I met? We had both been studying until three in the morning apparently. I found out later we were both in the same Chemistry class and were both overly stressed about an exam that the whole class later failed, but we had both gotten in the elevator of our dorm building and, keep in mind, it wasn’t just raining outside, it was completely pouring. So, Matt and I are in this elevator together and we’re both completely soaked and frantically making sure our phones and laptops and notebooks are all still alive when the elevator doors shut and we start moving. There’s just this sense of relief that finally, I can go to my floor, take a hot shower, and sleep after running on coffee the whole week, but no. It had literally just started moving and the lights went out. The whole elevator just stops. So Matt and I are just standing there, in the dark, dripping wet, freezing, and running our bodies on a coupling of the sheer power of will and excessive coffee intake, when we slowly realize that the weather knocked out the power. We’re just standing there, processing this when it finally clicks. It’s three a.m., we’re soaked to the bone, have a Chem test in five hours, and stuck in a dark elevator. At that point, we gave up. The existential dread of being a college student kicked in, and we both sat on the floor, accepted we wouldn’t be getting any sleep that night, and proceeded to realize we were both studying for the same exam. We spent the whole night roasting our professor and complaining about our roommates, until it was five in the morning and the elevator finally moved again. We both napped on my bed for two hours before rushing to get ready and take the exam that everyone failed. Including us unfortunately.”

  
“So… this insanity started in an elevator…?” The words came out soft and forced. He internally cursed himself for even daring to try and speak again.

  
“Yes. The only reason we know the Holts is because I got stuck in an elevator with Matt when I was nineteen.” Shiro confirmed.

  
The statement earned a small, hushed laugh from Lance. It sounded as if he had been trying to hold his reaction in, but the exchange was still a success. If Shiro could manage to remove Lance’s mind from the debilitating cycle called extreme anxiety then he had done his job. Seeing Lance’s eyes light up again afterwards had just been a plus.

  
“Can we talk about what happened now? I want to understand what gave you so much anxiety, so we don’t upset you like that again.”

  
He knew the request would come from the moment Shiro lead him out of the apartment. He dreaded elaborating on the event. It felt humiliating to admit the pathetic reasons his body would begin to shake and his mind would start doing circles around the same thoughts. Especially to someone like Shiro. Someone who had his life so perfect and together, who found time to invest in others problems. Someone so unlike Lance, who had been struggling to scrape his life back together since he was two years into college.

  
“Was it Keith?”

  
He tensed, biting his lip and focusing his eyes on the staircase below.

  
“I’m sorry. I didn’t realize it would still be an issue. I should have told you he was staying with me.”

  
“It’s alright…” His voice came out soft, trailing off at the end. He only wanted to ensure Shiro would not place the blame on himself. Especially when the real issue had just been his own inability to handle his emotions over a stupid situation that had happened years ago that he should have just gotten over by now.

  
“What can I do better next time?” The words were so calm and tranquil, a stark comparison to the detrimental and turbulent thoughts violently spinning in his head. It was grounding, something to focus on, and it had always been moments such as these where he could not be more grateful for continuing to have Shiro in his life after high school. The older man was like an older brother to him. Always watching out for him and taking any efforts needed to make sure Lance was always okay, even during episodes of anxiety or depression.

  
Shiro was the type of person Lance always told himself he should be, because Shiro was everything he was not. Shiro was everything he knew everyone wanted him to be.

  
Shiro was who he wanted himself to be.

  
“Nothing. I’m just being sensitive.” He answered.

  
“If it hurts you, it hurts you. Don’t apologize.”

  
He bit his lip, Shiro’s words unable to be digested as he continued to focus his attention on the hard, fossil gray stairs.

  
“But, if it’s still eating at you after this long, I think you two should talk. Not now. But soon. It might help you.”

  
“What?!” He exclaimed, “There’s no way he wants to talk to me Shiro!”

  
“Lance, I know my brother and so do you. I know it’s hard to believe positive things sometimes, especially when your head tries to tell you every negative thing that could happen, but maybe if you two have a talk about what happened, it could clear things up. Only when you’re ready though.”

  
“He hasn’t said a word to me since high school. That should be a cue right there. Besides, the me now is so much worse than the me he knew five years ago.”

  
“Don’t say those things about yourself. You’re not those things.”

  
“Sure.”

  
Shiro exhaled, then continued, “Are you feeling any better?”

  
“I guess…” He lied. His panic attack had subdued, but all he could think about was how sickeningly vulnerable he felt. It was as if the world could prod him once and he would fall to pieces right in place. So forcibly hyper-aware, but so exhausted that his body was practically in the process of putting him on powersaver mode for people; energy stretched so thin that the only thing on his tired mind was the nagging need for sleep.

  
“Are you feeling okay to drive?” His friend’s eyes started to lose their focus on Lance as he spoke.

  
“Yeah… I promise I’ll be safe.”

  
“Let me get your sweatshirt,” Shiro’s tripped over the begining of his sentence as he stood, offering him a helping hand to get back on his feet. He passed through the door to his shared apartment, moments later reappearing with the college memento. “I want you to always know I’m here for you Lance. Even when things get hard. It’ll be okay.”

  
“Thanks Shiro.” He slipped it on and continued, “I’ll keep that in mind.”

  
“Lance.”

  
“Yeah?”

  
“Promise me you’ll drive safe.”

  
“I will. Promise.”

  
“Thank you.”

  
He gave him a reassuring smile and descended the staircase.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This fic will be a slow burn, therefore there is a long plot to come. I'm going to try and finish it all in advance with Camp NanoWrimo in July! I'll be trying to figure out a good update schedule while I write.
> 
> Again, feel free to follow [my Tumblr](http://www.imaginationcubed.tumblr.com)!


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Anxiety loves to interfere with every decision of everyday. Sometimes, your friends' advice is exactly what you should do, and sometimes, you should just book it and run. Lance is starting to think this is one of the situations where the latter is the best option.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I've decided that this story is going to be updating weekly on Thursdays unless I cannot keep up with chapter creation. If that happens I'll switch to one every two weeks. But for now, chapter updates are every Thursday.
> 
> Once again, feel free to follow [my tumblr](http://imaginationcubed.tumblr.com) to keep up with all the updates!

The thought repeated in his head.

_You two should talk._

And that thought was sickening. His stomach dropped at the mere thought of confronting Keith. Of all people who had to waltz their way back into Lance’s life, it had to be Keith. There was a whole string of people who had left his life that he would have been ready to handle a conversation with right now, and none of them were Keith.

He pulled over to the side of the road, shifting the car into park within seconds. His grip on the steering wheel tightened as he braced himself to fight the familiar shaking that had taken over his body far too many times before. His chest tightened around his lungs, and his heart threw itself into overdrive. It was almost as if it was going at a thousand beats per second.

If his heart gave out and burst from his chest right now, he would not even be the slightest bit surprised.

After a few minutes, the world gradually fell back into place. The overwhelming sensation of participating in the act of nothing but existing began to fade, and the hot, wet feeling on his cheeks became evident. With his forehead resting defeatedly on the steering wheel, he drug his mind out of the extremely unpleasant and life interfering adrenaline high he was much too used to. A sigh passed through his lips. Headlights passed by him, pair after pair, as he gathered his composure to drive the rest of the distance to his house and keep up the “everything’s fine” facade around his family until he made it back to his bedroom for the night.

And faking composure is exhausting, because by the time he unlocked his front door, he could physically feel the last of his energy leave his body. The dark house was more welcoming than ever. Red, swollen, and unfocused eyes could not be seen without a light source. A glance at the clock hanging on the wall and a wave of relief washed over him. It was six minutes to twelve. His parents were most likely asleep. If not, at least they would be in their room at this hour, and Marissa had school in the morning. Maybe David was awake, but he would at least be in his room.

Something or someone had given him luck out of the events of his day, or maybe there really was an equal exchange of good things for bad things, because coming back to a sleeping house was almost as good as coming home to an empty house right now. Maybe, just maybe, the world did not want him dead. It just wanted him to suffer. A lot.

He entered the unlit kitchen, grabbed a water bottle, then made the trip up to his room. Collapsing on his bed, he glanced around the room in search for his faithful companion, otherwise known as Blue. Once the ball of white fluff had leapt onto his bed, he could feel the weight of the day’s events on his body. It was as if an actual anchor had been placed on top of him.

He never wanted to get up.

The Gay Agenda HQ  
  
Pidgeot  
Everything okay Lance?  
Hunk 'a Burnin' Love  
WHAT?! Lance what happened? Who wronged you?  


He took a moment to stare at the lit up screen. The concern from his friends was flattering, but in the end, he knew the two of them had better things to do at midnight. Honestly, he had probably just taken time out of both their days. Time Pidge and Hunk would not be getting back. He just had to stop their worries. Once that happened, they could forget about him again and continue with whatever it was they had each been doing.

The Gay Agenda HQ  
  
Yeah Pidge, I'm okay.  
Hunk, it's a bit of a story. I'm fine though.  


He pressed the side of his phone, turning off the screen and placing the object face down on his chest. Minutes later it began to buzz repeatedly. Lance picked up the brightly lit screen to check the latest disturbance to his defeated rest on his bed. It was a phone call from Hunk. He swiped across his phone with his thumb and held it to his ear, “Yes?”

“Hey buddy. How are you feeling?”

“I told you guys I’m fine, Hunk. Really, I am.”

“Don’t lie to me Lance. I can hear your voice is different. Talk to me. What happened?”

“Hunk, this isn’t necessary.”

“Yes it is. You’re my best friend. Once a roomie, always a roomie. Let me help you. Please?”

Lance said nothing.

“Come on Lance. I care about you. So does Pidge, she’s just weird in how she shows it, but she wouldn’t of said anything right now if she wasn’t concerned. Tell me what happened. Trust me, I have nothing better to do. I was just watching reruns of mediocre TV shows. It wasn’t doing much for me or my entertainment. Besides, even if it was the most interesting thing in the world, you come first.”

“I…” He hesitated. Was this really right? He was just taking time away from Hunk. Even if his friend said he had nothing better to do, he could be lying to him. He was definitely lying to him. Hunk would not of made such an effort to emphasize his boredom to Lance if he did not have to prove he was not spending his time on something else earlier.

“You still there buddy?”

“I… yeah…”

“Then talk to me. Or do you need me to come over?”

“Hunk, it’s midnight. It’s too late for that.”

“Never too late for you.”

“Look, I don’t know how to talk about it.”

“Then what if I ask you some questions? Does that make it easier?”

“I guess…”

“Did you have a panic attack?”

“Yeah…”

“Was it at Shiro’s?”

“It was.”

“What made you so anxious? You usually have a great time on Walking Dead nights.”

“Someone I used to be close with showed up. You don’t know him.”

“Why did it bother you so much?”

“I… I don’t know. Back in high school we were both super close… then one day it was all gone and then, he was gone.”

“Wait. Wait, wait, wait. Is this the boyfriend you told me about when we were freshman? The reason you were hesitant to go for a relationship with that one girl who actually liked you back? What was her name again?”

“Nyma. And…”

“So it is.”

“So what if it is him?”

“Lance, the more honest you are about it the more I can try and help.”

“Again, so what if it was Keith? We broke up years ago. I should be over it by now. Not having a panic attack, because I hang out with his brother and he showed up. I should’ve just expected him to be there at some point.”

“Lance—”

“I mean, I hang out with Shiro. I should expect that Keith keeps in contact with him right? A relationship with a brother is a lot different than an ex-boyfriend.”

“Lance—”

“Like, I get it. He dumped me. He dumped me a long time ago. But—”

“ _Lance_.”

“Yeah?” His voice dropped to quieter tone.

“Whether or not you think it should be bothering you, it is. And that’s okay. But I don’t want to see you start ruining friendships over this.”

“I wasn’t going to. Keith and I aren’t even friends.”

“Lance, I know you. And you’re going to want to avoid Keith, which means you’re going to stop going over to Shiro’s now, and he’s done too much for you to have you stop talking to him because of something he didn’t even do.”

“But I can’t just go over there! What am I supposed to even say to him?!”

“I think you two need to just talk things out.”

“And now you sound like Shiro.”

“Cause I’m right.”

“You haven’t even met Keith. Talking with that guy isn’t just a ‘Hey, how’s it going?’. I haven’t seen him for years. He left everyone in town out of the blue and you want me to talk about our _high school_ break up?”

“Yes. I want you to talk about your high school break up.”

“It’s done and over with. I’m over it. I’ve moved on. I’m not going to have a heart-to-heart with him.”

“Someone who is still ranting about Keith is _definitely_ over him. Hundred percent.”

“Low blow man.”

“I don’t know Lance. For someone who said he was going to start prioritizing his self care, you really don’t seem to want to deal with your underlying issues.”

“Okay. Will you stop if I have one conversation with him?”

“If that conversation is about you two being civil with each other, then yes.”

“Fine.”

“Thank you.”

He breathed a sigh, “Look, I’m really drained. I’m going to try to relax myself and catch some Z’s.”

“Alright. Call me again if you need me. If I’m asleep, I’m sure Shiro’s awake.”

He let out a half laugh, “Yeah, poor guy doesn’t sleep well at all. Did you know he told me he only got twenty hours of sleep all of last week?”

“And that’s going to be both of us soon if we don’t go to bed.” Hunk replied, a yawn escaping his lips halfway through his statement.

“Yeah. I’ll try. Night, Hunk.”

“Night, Lance.”

He watched his phone fade back into his home screen. A group photo covered in different apps greeted his eyes. It was a selfie Lance had particularly liked from the last time the group had gone out to the nearby reservation. The five of them had decided to try a different trail than normal and ended up stumbling upon a lake in the middle of the woods. Lance had taken it upon himself to climb a large rock by the water’s edge, only to beg everyone to join him, because he had been enamored with the lighting and declared to the whole group that he looked absolutely fabulous in it. Pidge had been the first taker to Lance’s request, which lead to Matt following her, because he said their mom would have his head if anything happened to his little sister, which Lance knew was a lie, since Matt was way too excited during his climb for it to be obligatory. Shiro and Hunk had accepted their defeat once Matt had triumphantly declared he finished scaling the rock and made an effort to join their friends.

To Lance’s excitement, the group had spent a good two hours relaxing on top of the excessively large stone afterwards. Shiro had taken the sandwiches and water bottles out of his backpack, and a peaceful lunch time turned into a group heart-to-heart; deep talks about personal feelings filled the conversation between them. It was also the day Shiro had told everyone he was going to cut back on the amount of drinking he had been engaging in during the recent years, a promise Lance had not only held him to but that Shiro had also made good on. Eventually, Lance pulled out his selfie stick, an item he had splurged on one day he had been feeling particularly upset, and sat himself up against Shiro’s left arm. With an announcement of his intentions everyone fell into place, Matt leaned against Shiro’s chest, while Hunk found his place next to the eldest of the group, and Pidge claimed a spot to the other side of her brother’s roommate.

Lance hit the button, saving the vertical photo onto his phone, then rested his head back into the crook of Shiro’s arm. Yet, not long after, Pidge managed to seize his phone from him and push him off the rock and into the untouched body of water. Apparently, that had been her initial motivation to join Lance two hours ago, to which Lance had told her that the joke was actually on her, because he’s a fish in a man’s body and proceeded to take a few laps. Although, he instantly regretted it when his clothes were still soaked through and through on the hike back, and Shiro had to come in as the most valuable player and lent Lance some spare clothes he had brought along. Shiro had said the clothes were a precautionary measure, but deep down all of them knew he had expected something like that to happen.

It was undoubtedly one of his favorite memories.

His phone vibrated, ripping him from his nostalgia as if his mother had just stripped him of his covers in the morning. It was a harsh transition as the reality that he was still in the middle of an unlit room, wide awake past midnight, settled in.

Shiro The Hero  
  
Hey Lance, did you get home safe?  
  


That’s right, he forgot to send Shiro a text to let him know he made it home. Ever since around Lance’s junior year of high school, Shiro had insisted that whenever he knew someone was driving that he got a call or text once they had made it from point A to point B. It happened to be one of the few ways to calm his nerves about the endless possible tragedies that could happen to his loved ones when they traveled. The poor man was probably dealing with anxiety through the roof while he was chatting away on the phone with Hunk. Oh god, was he an asshole.

Shiro The Hero  
  
Shit. Shiro, I'm so so so sorry. I completely forgot to text you. I'm okay I promise!  
  
It's okay Lance. We all saw Katie texting you. We know you're safe.  
  
I talked to Hunk for a bit. So I'm feeling a bit better  
  
He agrees with what you said. He says it's cause you're "always right", jsyk. Use it to tease him.  
  
Oh, this isn't Shiro btw.  
  
Matt?  
  
Um... no. Keith.  
  


He froze. Eyes locked onto the words on the screen and thumbs hovering centimeters above the digital keyboard. He should put himself on a list for a new heart while he had the chance too, because his definitely just stopped completely. It was as if time was completely suspended. Nothing seemed to move except for those horrid words that stood there, mocking him from his own phone. The phone that _he_ paid for. The cost of the phone bill each month was really not worth this kind of anxiety, because of course it was the one person he really did not want to talk to tonight. And, of course, Keith already knew Lance was awake because he answered his other messages.

Oh, how life was cruel.

He tapped out his next message. Shaking fingers missed keys and autocorrect proved its worth as the words came together on the screen in front of him.

Shiro The Hero  
  
Why do you have Shiro's phone Keith?  
  
I don't have one.  
  
Yeah, but what are you DOING with it?  
  
Look, I just wanted to talk to you.  
  
Well I don't want to talk to you.  
  
Please Lance? I know I fucked up last time we spoke. This isn't me trying to win you back or something. You're free to hate me. I just want to talk to you.  
  
I told you. I don't want to.  
  
Ever? You won't even talk to me in a few more years?  
  
Stop it Keith. You’re not in my life anymore. You’re the one who decided you wanted that too. I’ve grown a lot since high school and I don’t see how you fit in my life now. You can’t just expect me to welcome you back now that whatever life you tried to put together fell apart. I don’t want you in my life Keith. I spent enough time beating myself up over stupid shit to let you of all people back into my life.  
  


    He could feel Blue cuddling closer to to him. She probably sensed the way it felt like his chest was trying to squeeze his lungs out from his ribcage. The phone screen timed out, leaving him and his faithful companion in the dark room together. The clock on the smartphone only showed five minutes passing before Keith’s response woke up his screen, but Lance could have sworn an hour had passed instead.

Shiro The Hero  
  
Lance. It’s not like that. This isn’t some plea to ask for my ex back. I’m not asking you to come back into my life, so we can live happily ever after. I know I messed up. I messed up big time. Watch me say it. I. Messed. Up.  
  
You’re not the only one who grew since high school. I did too. So can you at least let me tell you why I want to talk?  
  
Fine  
  
My bike broke down so I’m going to be staying with Shiro for a bit. He said he’ll let me stay, but I need to pay for the bike repairs myself, which is more than fair. I just want to talk, because I don’t want to be sending you into panic attacks every time you see me. I know you’re friends with my brother, so I don’t want you to have to feel on edge every time you go to his place. I thought if we talked out everything, it would help. So are you willing to sit down with me? We can go somewhere public.  
Fine. I’ll go. I’ll meet you at the coffee shop down the street from the bagel place. The Grind. Remember it?  
  
Yeah. The one that sold the cookie brownies?  
  
Yeah. That one. When are we meeting? I’m working tomorrow night, ‘cause I’m picking up my brother’s shift.  
  
Shiro’s taking me out to get a phone tomorrow. So we should be done with that by 1pm. How’s 2?  
  
Fine. You have two hours. I’m going to sleep now.  
  


He exhaled, placing his phone into the charger by his bedside table, and stripped, only to redress himself in a tank top and boxers before crawling under the covers. He uncapped the water bottle he grabbed before he had retreated to his room earlier and washed down the medicine he put into his mouth. He silently cursed his friends for insisting he give Keith the time of day tomorrow and leaving him with nothing but sheer hope that his day would be anything but a disaster.

And he knew how much hope loved to leave him just when he needed it.

 

* * *

 

Metal clanged against metal, carrying the welcoming tune throughout the room. The door closed behind him, and he loosened the wide strip of wool around his neck as he adjusted to the temperature difference between the building and the outside world. The Grind consisted of one spacious room with pale green walls. The front of the store was lit mostly by large, rectangular windows where a matching white couch and loveseat sat with a coffee table to share. The windowsill was decorated with a variety of potted plants and a small collection of magazines for customers for use on a take-one-leave-one basis. A pasty, yellow counter with a glass display on the right took over the corner diagonal from the more relaxed sitting area. Shelves upon shelves of different ingredients lined the wall behind it, and the display was neatly filled with different types of baked goods for sale. A handful of wooden tables for two were placed throughout the space, only accompanied by one larger table closer to the front of the shop. If the weather had been warmer, a few metal tables and chairs would have been outside by the windows, but the ever dropping temperatures of the season did not want to cooperate at this time of year.

Lance ambled over to the counter. He rested his forearms on the hard surface and flashed the barista a charming smile.

“What can I do for you today?”

“Can I have an espresso?”

“With lots of sugar I presume?”

“I like my coffee as sweet as you.”

She giggled, bringing her hand to cover her mouth slightly before she brushed her blonde bangs from her eyes, “You can go sit Lance. I’ll bring it to your table.”

“Promise you’ll come visit me?” He rested his cheek on the palm of his hand, his relaxed smile still making its home on his face as he handed her his card to pay.

“I’d never let you down.” She reassured as she handed him back his card and playfully shooed him away from the counter.

He turned away from her and scouted the tables around the room. His fingers met the fringes of his scarf as the real reason he made the trip out here began to sink in. His eyes locked onto a head of black hair. _The_ head of black hair. His breath caught in his throat. Doubt crawled into his head. This was a terrible idea. He glanced to the door he had entered only a few minutes prior.

He still had time to escape. He could walk right out that door and maybe Keith would never even know he had been there in the first place. He would just think he had been stood up. Well, to be fair, that was what it would be called whether Lance showed his face at the coffee shop or not. Lance was not one to stand up his dates, but ditching Keith and the coffee shop was a temptation that could have been sent by the devil himself as the hard wood door and outside world stood there, mocking him from their safe spot away from the firing zone of ex-boyfriends who never dealt with their breakup. Last time Lance saw Keith, there was no way he imagined he’d be put in this dreadful position years later; standing in the middle of The Grind mentally preparing himself to battle his anxiety and confront issues he thought he had pushed out of his mind for good.

His hands trembled and the world seemed to slow, almost making a complete stop. Suddenly hyper-aware of the barista making his order, the door that could so easily be opened, and Keith who was somehow so calm. He just sat there looking at what Lance had assumed was his new phone, not an ounce of panic at the thought of seeing his ex-boyfriend again after over five years. The amount of calm, collected, and confident Keith seemed to be with this meeting just filled him with the same resentment he felt during their conversation last night. How could Keith be casual about this?

The door. It was still there. He could open it and be gone.

He _should_ open it and leave.

It was only a few steps. A few steps, and he could be outside. Keith would never know.

He was going to open it.

He turned, his feet almost shuffling on the wooden floor in his effort to get his body to cooperate with his head. His thoughts fixated on the door. The view through the window of it had never been as appealing as it was in the moment. He _needed_ to get out of the building. The sense of safety that radiated from the outside overwhelmed him as his thoughts circulated in his head.

“Lance, over here.”

Fuck.

An all too familiar, unfriendly roar took over his ears as his heart suddenly felt restrained and constricted inside his chest. This was not happening. Not now. He was not about to have a panic attack. Not in public. Not in front of _Keith._

It was as if he had been backed into a corner. Nowhere to go, no way to escape, only the option of head-on confrontation with his anxiety available as time ticked away. Every clank of dishes and chair scuffling against the floor was amplified as if they were held to a megaphone as the old fashioned wall clock’s insidious, repetitive sounds drilled into his head. _Tick, tick, tick._

He needed it all to stop.

He struggled to swallow his own saliva. He could swear his throat was closing on him as he made the split second decision to give Keith an acknowledging wave and made a path for the single room bathroom tucked away in the back. Once his back hit the tile of the wall, he let the dam break loose. His breaths shortening with each terrifying inhale, he pulled out his phone and swiped across the screen. His fingers found the number he had been searching for, and he raised the phone to his ear.

“Hello?”

That was not Shiro.

“Matt? Can I… Shiro…”

“He’s in the shower right now. You don’t sound good at all, Lance. What’s wrong?”

“Can’t breathe.” The words came out rushed in a single breath, “I can’t…”

“Hey, hey, hey. Deep breaths. In and out.”

Only sounds of hectic breathing came through the receiver.

“It’s going to be okay. What can I do to help? Do you want to talk?”

“I, no. No, I don’t. Not really. I guess — I guess just tell me I can do this.”

“You can do it. If you can handle working at the restaurant at rush hour, you can do whatever you’re going to do right now. That place gets crazy, and you still work that shift almost every night. You deal with rude customers and assholes who refuse to tip all the time. I’m sure what you’re about to do right now is nothing compared to what you do on a daily basis, Lance.”

“But I don’t have to talk to those people again!”

“In and out Lance. What exactly are you doing?”

“It doesn’t matter!”

“Oh, hey Shiro. Yeah, you can have your phone back. It’s Lance. Hey Lance, I’m handing you to Shiro now, okay?” A few muffled sounds came through the receiver, then ultimately a new voice was heard clearly.

“How are you Lance? Is everything okay?” Shiro’s voice sounded through the phone. His put together tone was an immediate comfort.

“No.”

“Alright. Let’s talk about that.”

“I don’t think I can talk to him Shiro.”

“Who can’t you talk to?”

“Keith!”

“I… I don’t understand. Are you with my brother right now?”

That was right. Shiro was Keith’s older brother. He really just called Shiro to scream about his brother to him. He could have called Pidge or Hunk, but no, he just had to call Shiro of all people. He really called _Shiro_ to complain about _Keith_.

He had more than half a mind to slap himself.

“I ran into him.” Lance lied.

“Breathe Lance. Calm your breathing, and the situation won’t seem as intense.”

“O-Okay.” He obeyed, forcing himself to take longer breaths. A full two minutes later, his muscles relaxed alongside his lungs. Shiro had continued to check on him throughout those minutes, counting to help him keep a steady breathing rhythm for his friend and occasionally speaking encouraging words and phrases to guide his mind into a rational place.

He continued the conversation once Lance had audibly calmed down, “Feeling better?”

“A bit shaky, but okay. Yeah, I’m pretty sure I’m okay.”

“Do you still want to talk?”

“Not really. Sorry.”

“That’s alright. If you change your mind, you can send me a text, okay?”

“Yeah… I’ll keep that in mind.”

“Will you be alright?”

“Yeah. Yeah, I think I’m okay. I think I’m just going to take a nap after I finish my coffee.”

“Lance, you drink espresso.”

“Shiro, I think you’re forgetting an important detail.”

“And what would that be?”

“I’m Cuban. Caffeine doesn’t affect me. I’m basically immune. I drank Cuban coffee growing up. Not just coffee, _Cuban_ coffee. That stuff is stronger than anything a coffee shop around here can give me. I’ll be out like a light when I get home.”

“If you say so.”

“I know so. Trust me on this Shiro.”

“Okay Lance, I’ll trust you.”

“Good choice. I think I’m going to go now. Thanks Shiro. Tell Matt thank you too.”

“Of course. And anytime Lance. I’m just glad to hear you feeling better.”

“See you later.”

“Talk to you soon. Call me if you need me.”

The call ended, leaving Lance truly alone in the bathroom he had been inhabiting for most likely ten minutes at the least. He inhaled, held it for a few seconds, then followed his action by exhaling. He began to inspect himself in the mirror glued to the wall above the counter-mounted white sink. Fortunately for him, the main external casualty of his previous anxiety-induced state was his hair, messed slightly out of place. A quick fix.

He guided it back into place with the tips of his fingers. Moments after he turned around and faced the door. He placed his hand on the knob and turned it until it stopped.

He would just drink his coffee, talk a few things over with Keith, then head home for a much needed nap. That’s all.

“Just drink your coffee and talk about like, three things with Keith, then you can go home. Simple enough, right?” He paused, as if he was absorbing the lines he had just spoken to himself, “Simple enough. You can do this Lance.”

“You can do this.” Lance repeated to himself once more.

He pushed open the door.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm Cuban and we're basically immune to caffeine because there's just so much of it, and I imagine Lance grew up with Cuban coffee in his household. If you're not familiar with Cuban coffee, imagine several espresso shots mixed with a lot sugar. It's also known as cafecito for anyone unfamiliar with Cuban drinks!


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Some conversations can be unpleasant, but life always seems to come around for the best when your friends are there for you.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter contains some underage drinking, also known as Pidge is 18 in this fic while Lance and Hunk are both 22 (this fic takes place in the United States). If anyone wants the rest of the ages in this fic feel free to ask :)

Lance stepped through the doorframe, and it was like he had just entered a whole other world. It was as if the bathroom was his anxiety prison and safe haven in one. The rest of the coffee shop was a mix of sweet freedom and uncharted territory. It was terrifying yet relieving all at once.

He sauntered over to the beechwood table that Keith had already claimed for the two of them to have their conversation, or “death talk”, as Lance had begun to dub it in his head. The other male had his eyes locked onto the liquid in the porcelain cup sitting in front of him. His spoon clanged against the sides as it swirled the contents inside. The beverage had obviously long since cooled, leaving Lance with the conclusion that Keith had done nothing but play with his food not only the entire time he had disappeared into the bathroom, but before he had arrived as well.

Once Lance took his seat across from Keith, the other’s eyes immediately lifted. “Are you feeling alright?”

“Yeah, I’m good. I just had to take a phone call.” The words came out a bit more rushed than he had intended. Hoping Keith would not pick up on the fatal flaw, he finished his sentence with a smile in an attempt to solidify his lie. “Did my coffee ever come?”

“Yeah. She said she’d come back once you sat down.”

“Great.” His eyes moved between Keith’s face and his own fingers. It was an excuse to not have to keep the excruciating eye contact, but the broken skin around his nails proved to be an actual distraction as he mentally scolded himself for slacking in his nailcare. Luckily, the barista swung by to lift him from his thoughts. With his warm drink in hand and an exchange of a couple choice and flirtatious words with the cute girl serving him, maybe, just maybe, he could pull through this dreaded conversation to come.

Lance took a sip of the brown liquid, “Well?”

“Well, what?”

“You said you wanted to talk. I have to be at work soon, so if you have something to say to me Keith, come out and say it.” His tone was bitter and harsh, but Keith deserved it. He did not owe Keith calm words or a smile. He had already gave that to Keith years ago, and the fact that Keith did not even think about contacting him since then just solidified Lance’s opinion.

“Okay, okay. Fine. I get you’re angry with me, you don’t have to prove it.”

“What’s your point Keith?”

“I told you. I’m staying in town for a while, and it would be nice if we weren’t constantly butting heads the whole time. According to my brother, you two hang out a lot.”

“So what if we do? Not like you were around anyway.”

“I get it, I get it. I’m an asshole. Can we move past that for five minutes?”

“No.”

“Lance, I swear—”

“No Keith, I’m angry!” He snapped, “Just because you think everything should be fine doesn’t mean it is!”

“I told you this isn’t some take me back speech!”

“I don’t care! You leave out of the blue and show up five years later expecting me to be okay with that?! You just expect everyone to be okay with that. You didn’t even think about how anyone would feel about it. You just dropped out of high school, and, the next day, decided to take off with no way to contact you expecting everyone to be okay with it! You hurt people Keith! You hurt me! You hurt me a lot!”

“So you’re still angry.” Keith stated, an obvious frustration rising from him as he began to bite on the end of his spoon.

“Yes Keith, I’m still angry. And I think I have every right to be.” 

“It was five years ago.”

“It doesn’t mean it hurt me any less! I’m allowed to be upset.”

“Fine. I’m sorry Lance. I’m sorry I’m a jackass. Happy?”

“Apology not accepted.” Lance said flatly, only followed by a sip from his sweetened espresso.

“Then what do you want?!”

“I don’t know, maybe some acknowledgement that what you did sucked?” Lance retorted.

“Me leaving meant nothing. I wasn’t important to anyone. My parents are dead. Shiro’s parents are dead. Shiro was away at college, and you were preparing to go too. We probably would’ve broken up when you went away anyway, because we all knew I wasn’t college material.”

“‘Cause you were constantly in trouble! And did our relationship really mean that little to you?! You really thought…” He slid his face into his hands, “Oh my God, I’m so stupid.” 

Keith’s hard expression faded, melding into something softer. A flick of guilt found its way into his eyes as he spoke with words notably calmer than before, “Fuck. Lance. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean it like that. Of course it meant something to me.”

“Then how can you even think that you weren’t important to me? You meant everything to me back then. You were the first person I called or texted if I was happy or upset about something and the only person I trusted to tell everything to. I can’t believe that meant nothing to you…”

“Lance, stop it. It meant a lot to me.”

“If what we had meant so much, you wouldn’t of said that.”

“I’m sorry.” Keith pressed his teeth into his chapped and split lower lip, biting down. He managed to tear off a small piece of skin before he chose to speak again, “Can we start this conversation over?”

Lance gave his ex a small nod, still not removing his face from its resting spot in his palms. 

“Thanks... “ He took a moment to form his thoughts into sentences before he spoke again, “I don’t think we have to be friends, but I want to be able to get along. I’m not here to try and take away anyone’s friendships. I think… Okay, I don’t want to make Shiro’s life harder than it is. He’s nice enough to let me stay, so I’m just trying to stay out of everyone’s hair until I have enough money to fix up my bike and figure out where to go from there.”

“So you just want to be civil?”

“Basically.”

Lance stirred his spoon around in the hot, dark liquid sitting in front of him. He opened his mouth to speak, then closed it again, as if he was mentally withdrawing his statement.

“How can I make that happen?”

“How about we just forget we ever dated okay? Shiro’s my friend and yours. That’s the only reason we’re connected at all anymore. We’re not exes, we’re not friends, we’re strangers; maybe acquaintances.”

“So basically, we only see each other because of mutual friends.”

“Yeah. Does that work with you?”

“I’m okay with that. How do you feel about hanging out in groups?”

“Doesn’t bother me if I know you’ll be there in advance.”

“I’ll have Shiro tell you then.” Keith gently rapped his fingers on the smooth, polished beech wood. After a small silence, he spoke again, “I still think we should talk about our relationship, it’s—”

“There’s nothing to talk about.” Lance interrupted.

“Lance, it’s not healthy to ignore it.”

“You’re going to give  _ me _ a lecture about ignoring things?”

Keith rolled his eyes before continuing his previous point, “We need to talk about the actual reason we’re not getting along now.”

The brown haired man let out a deep sigh before granting the other with a response, “Look Keith, I’m going to be one-hundred percent honest with you right now. I really don’t want to talk about when we dated. It was five years ago, and I’ve spent my time getting over it already. I don’t need this talk, and I don’t need to know why you broke up with me anymore. I told you, I grew up a lot since then. I’m not the same boy who needed reassurance that I was still worth something if I wasn’t getting attention or meeting everyone’s expectations. How much or how little I’m worth isn’t dependent on a relationship. I get to decide that. I’ve had other relationships too. I don’t have a hang up on you, and I don’t need this talk. I don’t know what you’ve spent your time doing these last five years, and I don’t need to, but, for me, I used it to figure myself out more and start getting my life together.”

“You had a panic attack, because you saw me.” Keith said in rebuttal, emphasising his statement in an attempt to get his point across.

“Yeah Keith, ‘cause I have  _ anxiety _ . It’s a mental illness. It doesn't just go away, and I’m not going to suddenly grow out of it just ‘cause I’m in my twenties now. Hell, your brother can’t even sleep more than three hours consecutively because of his, and he’s got everything working for him right now.”

“I get that Lance, but I shouldn’t be triggering it if there’s not an issue.”

“Don’t flatter yourself. You’re not the end all be all of my mental health. I’ve been fine since you’ve left. I don’t need my savior Keith to come in and save me. Trust me, I can handle it myself.” The words were sharp and virulent, a clear indication that the comment had struck a nerve.

“That’s not what I meant Lance, and you know it.”

“Then what  _ did _ you mean Keith? Please. Enlighten me.”

“That I’m not an asshole! I don’t want you having panic attacks. They’re really stressful on you, and you don’t deserve to get one every time you hang out with your friends just because I’m there.” When nothing but the silence between them and the smell of coffee replied to his statement, he continued, “We don’t have to talk about it if you really, really don’t want to, but I still think it’s for the best if we do.”

Blue eyes dropped to the cup of espresso on the table. He bit his lip harshly before he responded, “Look, a lot has happened since then, and I don’t really want to think about any of it right now, okay?” Lance’s words were quiet, as if he had left himself completely exposed by letting the sentence leave his mouth. “I just… I really don’t know if being friends again is the best for me right now Keith. Like, yeah, I was really happy when we dated, but that was also a whole other point in my life. Frankly, I was a complete mess during it too. I was really open and vulnerable with you back then, and the last thing I need is to end up looking for support in someone who is just going to get up and leave again like they did five years ago. And admit it Keith, you don’t plan on sticking around. You’re getting the money to fix your bike, and then, you’re skipping town again. I spent five years without one call from someone I thought I shared something with. I’m not putting myself back in that position again. You said you changed too, but I still think you’re going to pull that shit again. So, I don’t even really want to be friends again, unless you can somehow become someone who will actually keep his relationships going. We’re just going to be around each other, because we have mutual friends. The friends I need are the ones who will support me and stay by me. Katie isn’t always around because she’s at college a lot, but she still always texts me and skypes me when she can. It’s as simple as that! But you’ve had five years, and you never thought to contact me once. And at this point in my life, I’m going to need more than just the weight of your words that you’ll actually do that.”

“Lance, I didn’t mean to hurt you like I did.”

“But you did. Can you just respect what I want now to make up for it?”

“Fine.”

“Thanks.”

Keith’s metal spoon clanked against the porcelain of the cup in front of him. The liquid inside was still completely untouched, completely cooled, and completely undeserving of consumption at this point. An uncomfortable silence settled between them, and it was enough to convince both men to break the eye contact they held for the majority of their stay together at the finished tabletop.

Five years ago, a moment like this would have been relaxing and comforting, but now it just has Lance wanting nothing more than the ability to crawl out of his skin and escape the encounter he was currently involved in. A familiar trembling found way into his hands as he watched Keith bite the skin off his lip once more, his appetite fading away as the minutes passed.

He took the time stuck in the unsettling quiet to study the features of the porcelain that once held his beverage. The humble cup flared out as it reached the top and had a small handle on the side, just large enough to hold the weight of the white object and the contents inside. The way it sat on the matching plate added a theme of elegance that was uncharacteristic of a small-scale coffee shop in the middle of nowhere in New York, and, for a moment, he imagined the amount of work it takes everyday to give every dine-in customer an actual cup rather than a traditional paper cup and plastic lid. 

And then he remembered — work.

Well, that thought killed the already dead mood more than he anticipated.

“I have about fifteen minutes. Do you have anything else to say?” Lance asked, eyes taking a moment to flick over to the wall clock and back.

“No, but I was hoping we could just chat at some point.”

A short silence fell between them again. Then suddenly, the scribbling of a pen on paper filled the emptiness, and Lance handed over a folded up napkin. “That’s my number. You can text me if you really want to talk to me that badly.”

“What happened to not wanting to be friends?”

“I’m still standing by that, but you’ll probably just either take Shiro’s phone or get my number from him anyway. This way, I’m at least prepared.” He put on his coat and rewrapped the piece of wool around his neck, “I have to go get ready for work. So, I guess I’ll see you around.” 

Keith shrugged on the black leather jacket that had been resting on the back of the chair he had been occupying. The article of clothing was plain except for a few patches on the chest and arms, the most notable one being a small rectangular strip on the flap of his chest pocket. The patch was colored with a rainbow flag and the word  _ pride _ sewn across it. He stood up before speaking, “Do we leave the dishes?”

“No, they go on that counter over by the trashcan.”

“Thanks.”

“Mhm,” Lance left the matching cup and plate on the specified counter, “See you around.”

“Yeah…”

With that, metal clanged against metal once again, and the wooden door swung closed behind him.

 

* * *

The brown tinted bottle hissed as the protective metal cap was yanked from the glass. Lance handed Katie the open bottle, “Just don’t drink too much, okay? I don’t need Matt giving me a lecture and not trusting me to hang out with you.”

Katie rolled her eyes, “He’s just screwing with you Lance.”

“Yeah… I’m not too sure,” He plopped down to her right, instantly opening up a yellow can with the words  _ Materva _ printed on the front. He kicked his feet onto the matching footrest alongside his friend’s and took a sip from his drink. A long yawn escaped his mouth.

“How was the dinner rush?” Hunk took his seat beside Lance, “Can’t be too terrible if you’re not drinking with Katie.”

“You would think!” Lance practically shouted, “No. I just can’t drink ‘cause I have to drive Pidge back to Shiro and Matt’s place. Otherwise, I’d be sleeping here. Luckily, I have the best best friend in the entire world who buys me Materva.”

“Now what kind of friend would I be if I didn’t take care of your needs?” Hunk replied as he reached for the remote. With the press of a button, the large screen lit up, and it awoke.

“See Pidge, you’ve gotta find yourself a girl who takes care of you like this.”

“I think I should worry about school before finding a girlfriend. I can only keep my scholarship if I keep a 3.2 gpa.” She said before taking a drink from the bottle loosely held in her right hand.

Lance sat up straight, concern flickering in his eyes as he instantly faced Pidge, “Are you having trouble in school?”

“No… not exactly.” 

“It’s okay if you are. College is a bitch.”

“I never said I was struggling.”

“Then what’s bugging you?” Hunk pitched in.

“I just… I’ve been happy at college, right? I really like my major too. But it’s really stressful being there. I have a guy as a roommate. I live in the boy’s dorm. The college basically outed me to everyone in my dorm and put me with a bunch of boys to live with just because of what’s in my pants. I’m a  _ girl _ . What’s so hard about treating me like one? Everyone who lives with me and knows what dorm I’m in knows I’m trans, because they couldn’t find me a spot in the co-ed dorm. I shouldn’t have to be telling everyone I meet that I’m not cis. That’s not their business! And then Christmas was an absolute nightmare. If I have to hear my deadname one more time, I think I’m going to scream. I don’t get it! My name is Katie, and I’m a girl. It’s not that hard.”

“Did they not change the name on your ID like they promised?” Lance asked, thumb stroking the side of his soda can as he spoke.

“No, no. They did, but that’s not enough. You can’t just say, ‘Oh, we changed your name’ and expect that to be enough. Like, it’s great that they did, but it’s basically all for nothing if they’re going to treat me like a boy everywhere else. I just want to live in peace. I’m begging them for a single next year. Honestly, I barely made it through this semester, and what if people are thinking things about me? How am I supposed to be feel safe on a campus that outed me to an entire dorm of people?! All those people know, and I can’t even figure out how they feel about it! That’s scary!” Her hands began to shake, and the end of the sentence came out with a sharp, panicked exhale.

Lance took the bottle from her hand and placed it onto the nearby coffee table. His other hand took hers and soothingly stroked the smooth skin of the top of her hand with his thumb, “Take a deep breath, okay Pidge?” He waited a few moments before speaking again, “You’re working yourself up.”

“Is there anything we can do to help you calm down?” Hunk asked, “And don’t say more alcohol. I’m not going to throw Lance under the bus.”

“I don’t know…”

“Hey, hey. Come here.” Lance opened his arms for his younger friend. Once she accepted, he wrapped them around her. His hand soothingly rubbed up and down the red sweater covering her back. He pushed her ponytail to the side to avoid the inevitable tangles from the friction. When no one spoke, he decided to take the opportunity for himself, “If you ever need anything, you can always call me up. I’ll head out there, and we’ll party hard for the whole weekend. Sound like a plan?”

Pidge nodded in response.

“Hey, how about we bake some cookies? I just went food shopping yesterday, so we can make them from scratch. Sound good?” Hunk suggested.

“Yeah,” She replied. She proceeded to untangle her arms from Lance’s torso before rising and following Hunk a couple steps over into the section of Hunk’s apartment dedicated to the kitchen. Lance then followed.

Hunk began removing ingredients from the cabinets. First flour, then chocolate chips. He ambled over to the fridge and placed a carton of eggs and a stick of unused salted butter on the granite counter, “How many batches?”

“I don’t think we could finish more than two, Hunk.” Lance handed Pidge a set of measuring cups and gathered the necessary bowls and pans for their baking pursuit. He watched Pidge lift herself onto the countertop and proceeded only to start dumping the same bowls and pans onto her lap as soon as she settled. Quickly, he took a disinfecting wipe and ran it along the surface of the exposed granite.

“Maybe you two can’t finish two batches,” Hunk laughed as he tossed a whisk over to Lance.

“Hey! I eat a lot better now than I used to. Two batches is still a lot. You know what, Pidge what do you think? Is two batches of cookies a lot or no?”

“Well how many cookies do you consider as a batch?” She questioned.

“Maybe a bit over a dozen.” Lance suggested.

“How about a dozen plus three?” Hunk clarified.

“Alright. A dozen plus three. That’s fifteen cookies a batch. Double that and you have thirty. Still think you could finish thirty cookies Hunk?” She placed her hands behind her back and leaned her weight on the counter, careful not to hit her head on the cabinets above.

“You can’t stop me from trying.”

The three laughed in unison. A few years ago, a moment like this seemed so far fetched, a long shot. Something that only happened in books and TV shows. Back then, it felt so fabricated, a thing Lance would never have. Yet, here he was with the friend group trio everyone aspired to have; a relaxed atmosphere, people he could turn to with anything, and be turned to in return.

Honestly, it was everything he could have asked for.

“Is it weird how technical we make things? Like, it’s just how we think but, I don’t know, I think it’s pretty neat how we think about normal questions, you know?” Lance pointed out.

Hunk began to whisk the flour, butter, eggs, and chocolate chips together, “Just what happens when you put an engineer, computer scientist, and astrophysicist in one room together, I guess. Hey Pidge, hand me the vanilla extract.”

“Sure. Hey Lance, heads up.” She tossed the bottle to the lanky brunet on the other side of the kitchen. 

Hunk watched Lance pour the contents into the bowl, stopping him once he deemed enough was in the batter, “Does it really bother you that much? The college situation, I mean.” 

“Me? Or Lance?” Pidge inquired.

“Well, both of you. I was referencing what you told us, but if you’re both upset I want to hear about it.”

“I mean, yeah. It’s just, it’s really stressful. I’m constantly worrying about how people perceive me and if I’ll run into a transphobe on top of just normal college stress and adjusting and all that stuff. I just want to be in the girls’ dorm, with a girl for a roommate. College is stressful enough. I don’t need all of this on top of trying to keep my scholarship. And if I don’t keep it, there’s no way I can afford to live in a dorm alone, because I don’t think I can do another year of this. Like, maybe they can give me a girl as a roommate, but housing probably won’t do that. So, I can at least try for a single in the co-ed dorm for my sophomore year. If I can’t get it, I don’t know what I’m going to do.”

“Hey, Pidge, the offer’s still there. If you ever need to leave campus for a weekend, I’ll head out there, and we can chill out in a hotel room. I’ll ask my dad for the time off and pick up some extra shifts for make up for it.” Lance strolled over to the oven, pressing the select buttons to start the pre-heat.

“I’ll see… If I feel that bad, I’ll let you know. Matt offered too. I just feel bad, because it’s a long drive.”

“Dude, don’t feel bad. I like hanging out with you, and work sucks.”

“I guess.”

“What about you, Lance? Any college thoughts?” Hunk interrupted.

“I… Not really.” Lance bit his lip.

“Lance, be honest. It’s okay. We’re not here to judge you or tell you what you should be doing right now, just bounce your thoughts off us for a bit. We’re here to listen.” Hunk encouraged.

“I don’t really know, that’s the thing. I know what my dad wants, I know what my family wants, but I don’t know what  _ I _ want. Like, I hate being ‘the dropout’. And I know that everyone probably judges me for only actually finishing two years, and I’m sure everyone thinks I’m going nowhere, but I just don’t even know if I could handle going back too. I had a complete mental breakdown when I was there…”

“To be fair, not only were you not being treated for your mental health issues, you were also in one of the worst relationships I’ve ever seen.”

“Don’t forget, astrophysics is really hard.” Pidge chimed in.

“Yeah, astrophysics is a really hard major.”

“Doesn’t change the fact that I said I was just taking a short break, a semester off, and I ended up never going back.”

“Okay, so what? Maybe college isn’t for you. You have a family business behind you anyway. Have you thought about asking your dad if you could take over the restaurant?” 

“His heart is set on Sofia taking it, since she’s the ‘oldest’. Even though she has no interest at all. She loves her teaching job.”

“So, I’m guessing it’s going Sofia, Luis, you, David, Marissa?”

“Yep.”

“So what does Luis think?”

“I don’t know. I saw him at Christmas for a bit, but him and his wife left early. He seemed pretty content with everything in his life though. New wife, kid on the way, nice paying job in business. But, like, the thing is, I don’t even know if I really want to take over the restaurant either. All of this is too much of a decision to think about so easily, you know?”

“You’re twenty-two, you have to decide soon, Lance.” Pidge began to take chunks of the freshly made cookie dough from the bowl.

“I get that, I get that. Everyone keeps telling me that. But what’s the point if I’m just miserable?”

“Money, so you don’t starve, because capitalism is a thing.” She rolled the dough between the palms of her hands and placed the resulting ball on the oil-greased pan.

Lance rolled his eyes, “Yeah, yeah. I’m not planning on living with my parents forever. I just don’t feel like taking over the restaurant will be what I want, but what if I’m not the college material I thought I was? What do I even do? I feel like I’m disappointing my family everyday I don’t go to school.” The end of the sentence became quiet, and his eyes met the dark wood floor.

“Stop it Lance. You’re not a failure.” Hunk scolded.

“Sorry. Sorry.”

“Don’t apologize. Just try and see yourself better okay?” 

“I’ll try…”

“Hey, Lance, your phone is buzzing.” Pidge pointed out, interrupting the current conversation.

“Shit. Thanks.” He immediately picked up the iPhone laying on the counter.

Unknown Number  
  
I never gave you my number. Here it is. Now it's fair.  
  


He could not just have five minutes of peace now, could he?

Lance tapped the screen of his phone, saving the number into his contacts.

Keith Gyeong  
  
Thanks.  
  


“Who are you texting?” Hunk inquired with the same tone of voice he always managed to adopt when he felt like being especially nosy.

“Keith.”

“Oh? What happened to Lance ‘I’m completely over Keith’ Fuentes?” The other male teased.

“Still here. Never left.”

“Yet, here you are. Texting him as we bake.”

“Yeah, Lance. Maybe you only agreed to bake, because you want to give the cookies to Keith.” Katie joined in teasingly.

“Oh my god, you guys both suck. It was five years ago. You guys don’t even know him either.”

“Wrong. I’ve been staying with Matt and Shiro since Christmas, and Keith’s been there the whole time. He keeps to himself for the most part.” She informed.

“Yeah, Keith’s like that. If you find something you two have in common though, he opens up pretty well.”

“You’re smiling.” Hunk taunted as he placed the first pan into the oven.

“I don’t even like him. We’re not even friends. I told him that. Besides, I’ve been talking to this guy I knew from college.” Lance replied defensively.

“Wait, wait, wait. You’re dating again?! You have to tell us these things!” 

“I wouldn’t say dating…”

“Then what exactly is going on?”

“I don’t know. We’re just talking. We haven’t even met in person since then.”

“What’s his name?” Pidge turned the faucet handle and ran her dirtied hands underneath the running water.

“I’ll tell you guys if it gets serious.”

“Well, do you like him?”

“I don’t know. I guess? I mean, I like him. But just enough to like messaging him and getting messages from him and wanting to get to know him better. That stuff, you know?”

“I get it. You know you need the Hunk Approval on any potential boyfriend or girlfriend too.” Hunk took a seat at the counter on the other side of the half-wall of the kitchen.

Lance let out a laugh, “I’ll keep that in mind Hunk. I don’t know if this is going anywhere though.”

“Precautions Lance, precautions.”

“Yeah, yeah.” 

“Once all the cookies are done I need you to take me back Lance. And I’m sure you don’t want your mom to be asking why you were out any later.” Katie pushed herself back onto the counter.

“If you’re doing something after twelve a.m., you shouldn’t be doing it.” Lance rolled his eyes as he mockingly repeated the words from one of his mother’s past lectures. He then fetched another can of Materva from Hunk’s fridge. He opened the metal can and leaned on the counter behind him.

“At least you’re not drunk.”

“Yeah, but you’re eighteen and drinking right now Pidge.”

“Okay, true.”

“All for a secrecy pact between the three of us, a.k.a. don’t tell your parents about our screw ups, say ‘aye’.” Hunk proposed.

“Aye!” The other two immediately responded simultaneously.

“Good,” The oven timer released an ugly, high-pitched beep, “Now, let’s deal with our problems by stuffing our faces with homemade cookies. Sound good? Good.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For anyone who's wondering, Materva is a popular Cuban soda.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A few weeks ago, Lance would never have anticipated that he would be playing never have I ever with his high school boyfriend.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys! This chapter includes some underage drinking again for Pidge. There's also some references to minor suicidal thoughts in the first half of the chapter.

_ The crisp autumn air filled the small sitting area of the truck through the open windows. The tune of loud pop-punk music spilled out the same windows in return as Keith sped down the empty road ten miles above the speed limit. The high beams and moonlight lit the dirt path the black-haired teen turned onto. _

_ With his free hand, he laced his fingers together with Lance’s, “How are you feeling?” _

_ “Meh.” He breathed out uninterestedly. His head stayed resting on the palm of his hand, eyes glued but unfocused on the passing surroundings outside. A sigh escaped his lips, and his body slid further into the slump it had already settled into. _

_ “Aux cord’s yours if you’re up for it.” _

_ Nothing. _

_ Keith frowned, “Hey, how about this.” He took his phone into his hand and swiped through his music in glances as he tried to keep his focus on both his phone and the road. _

_ “Eyes on the road. I don’t mind dying, but I do mind if you do.” Lance scolded. _

_ “Lance!” Keith snapped, “You know how I feel about those jokes.” _

_ “It’s not a joke.” Lance said flatly, unphased by his boyfriend’s displeasure. _

_ “Don’t say that!” Keith pulled the truck to the side of the road and shifted it into park. His voice softened, and his eyes began to fill with worry. His fingers tightened around the other boy’s hand. He bit his lip and tried to keep his voice from breaking, “Please tell me you don’t really think that…” _

_ Lance tilted his head to the right and partially outside the window, refusing to make eye contact, “Why do you sound so hurt? It’s not that big of a deal.” _

_ “Why am I so hurt?! Lance, are you kidding me?! It’s because I love you! I don’t want anything to happen to you! And here you are talking about how you wouldn’t care if you died!” _

_ “Because I wouldn’t.” _

_ “But I would, asshole!” His grip on Lance’s hand tightened. _

_ Silence. _

_ “Do you not believe me?” _

_ “I didn’t say that.” _

_ “So then why do you not care if you die?” _

_ “I don’t know, okay?!” Lance retorted as his head snapped over to have his eyes meet Keith’s. _

_ Keith took a moment to calm his voice, “Look, I don’t want to fight.” His left hand moved from the steering wheel to Lance’s face. He took the other boy’s face into his hand and stroked his temple with his thumb, “I just want to know what’s going on up there.” _

_ Lance’s eyes darted away. _

_ “Look at me?” _

_ His body began to tremble, and his throat felt as if someone was pressing down on his windpipe, “I don’t… I can’t.” _

_ “Hey, hey. That’s alright. Let’s ground you, okay?” Lance nodded, and Keith continued, “Name one thing you can see.” _

_ “You.” _

_ “Alright. Now, something you can touch.” _

_ “Your hand… the seat…” _

_ “Good, good. How about smells? What can you smell?” _

_ “The air freshener.” _

_ “You’re doing great, Lance. Can you hear anything?” _

_ “Yeah.” _

_ “What is it?” _

_ “You and the engine.” _

_ “Do you feel any better?” Keith asked, rubbing his thumb along the top of Lance’s hand. His other hand occupied his boyfriend’s hair and brushed through it soothingly. _

_ “I, I think.” Lance tripped over the beginning of his sentence. _

_ “I still want to talk about what you said.” _

_ “Why?” _

_ “Because I care about you, and I don’t want you to leave me like that. I’m sorry if I came on so strong, Lance. I’m really worried, okay?” _

_ “I just don’t really care about myself. You can care about me, but I don’t see why.” _

_ Keith frowned, “Because you’re you. I love you, and I can’t really give you a reason why. I just do. I’m happy when I’m around you. That’s just how it is, and I’m okay with that. And I’m not the only one who cares about you like that.” _

_ “Name one person. And don’t say my family.” _

_ “My family. My dad loved having you around when he was alive. My parents now are always thrilled when you come over, and Shiro considers you basically a brother-in-law too.” _

_ Lance sighed. _

_ “I want to know that you’re okay, that you’re safe. If not, you’re sleeping over at my house tonight, so I can watch you.” _

_ “I don’t mean to be like this…” _

_ “No one ever said you did.” _

_ “My dad did. He told me to snap out of it. I have a roof over my head and food to eat. What’s there to be sad about?” _

_ “Well, that’s idiotic. You have depression. You have anxiety. You have ADHD. None of those are going away. And that sucks, it really sucks. But, you always have me to go to if you need okay?” _

_ “Alright…” The weight of his head became heavy in Keith’s hands as his gaze met the black, carpeted floor of the pick-up truck. _

_ “Hey Lance, look at me. Just for a moment.” _

_ He forced his gaze back to the other male’s face. _

_ “I love you, okay?” Keith placed a kiss to Lance’s forehead, “Remember that.” _

_ Lance hugged him, clinging to his torso and burying his face into the other’s neck. _

_ Keith pulled him closer. He placed a few gentle kisses on Lance’s hand before pulling him onto his own lap completely. Maybe he held his boyfriend for a few minutes, or maybe it was a few hours. Keith could not bring himself to care. All that mattered was seeing the same smile he fell for spread across Lance’s face once again, and that his boyfriend would feel the same worth in his own life that everyone else saw. He could only hope that by the next morning Lance’s current mood would improve.  _

_ Luckily, if there was something Lance was good at, it was taking a step back and thinking about a situation in a rational manner. His impulsivity was mostly directed at verbalizing seemingly random thoughts and acting on harmless plans on a whim that he had not thought through completely, unlike Keith, who had developed a bad habit of getting himself in fights and other trouble, since his father had passed away. In a way, they balanced each other out. When Lance was around, he had someone to stop him before he could jump into something he should avoid, and Lance had someone who could simultaneously hold his hand and give him a reality check when he needed it. _

_ Truly, neither of them would have traded the support they got from the other for the world. _

_ Lance eventually emerged from his quiet moment. He untangled himself from Keith and slid back into the passenger seat. A hand came to his face to wipe the remaining wetness.  _

_ Keith handed him a tissue from the console, “Are you still up for going? Or do you want to head home?” _

_ “I still want to go.” Lance forced out. _

_ “Alright. If you change your mind, tell me. We can go back to my house. We can stop at the grocery store on the way back and get those frozen croquetas they sell. I know you could probably make better, but they’re something. You like the ham ones, right?” _

_ He nodded. Moments later, Lance reached over for Keith’s hand. His fingers slid between his boyfriend’s, and he held on as if his life depended on it. _

_ Keith used his other hand to shift the truck back into drive and continued on their late night excursion. _

_ Eventually, Keith parked. _

_ The black-haired teen turned off the engine and slipped out of the driver’s seat and Lance’s death grip on his hand. He opened another door to the truck and fetched a collection of pillows and blankets. Keith threw each item onto the back of the vehicle and jogged to the opposite side to open the door for Lance. He reached out a hand, “Coming?” _

_ “Carry me.” Lance replied, pout and all. _

_ “Anything you wish, princess.” He secured his arms underneath Lance’s knees and back before lifting him out of the seat and placing him in the back. He followed by taking his place next to Lance and curling partially into his side. His gaze fell onto the scene in front of them, a small lake where the moonlight reflected back and the trees could see themselves. It was as if it was nature’s mirror.  _

_ He waited for Lance to place his arm around him before pulling out a pocket-sized sketchbook from his maroon sweatshirt. A second trip into the same pocket revealed a cheap, generic yellow pencil with a pink eraser glued to the top. Without missing a beat, he went to work. The night filled with the sound of graphite transferring to paper, crickets chirping, and the occasional disturbance of the water by a fish. Yet, even when the water was disturbed, it came out in calm, even ripples. In all honesty, it was a perfect scene.  _

_ “What did you want to draw out here?” _

_ “The lake. Last time we went for a drive and stopped here, I liked how it looked.” _

_ “I want to be able to see things the way you do.” _

_ “Hm?”  _

_ “You know, just seeing something and being like ‘that’s cool’ and rolling with it and making something out of it.” _

_ “You don’t think you do that? You love science, especially space and physics, and you get excited about it. Isn’t that the same thing I’m doing?” _

_ “No, but you, like, make something.” _

_ “You’re making the future with those subjects.” _

_ “I guess. But it’s just not the same.” _

_ “Well, what do you see yourself doing in a few years?” _

_ “I don’t really know… It’s hard to really picture anything in the future.” _

_ “Would it help if I told you what I think of?” _

_ “Maybe. Even if it doesn’t, I want to know.”  _

_ “I don’t really see myself going to college. Besides, even if I did, it’s not fair to the Shiroganes to pay for another kid to go to college that isn’t theirs, and Shiro is headed to college soon. I think I can be happy without an education, though I’m not really sure what exactly I want to do. But, I know I see myself with top surgery done. I’d never have to wear a binder again. I’ll have my name legally changed to Keith. And I’d have a supportive husband, or boyfriend. Whatever he’s ready for. I can figure out the rest as I go.” _

_ “...Am I there?” _

_ “Who do you think that husband is?” _

_ The beginning of a smile crept up on Lance’s face. _

_ “What about you?” _

_ “I don’t know… I want to go to college. And I want to study astrophysics. And I want you there. I think I’d marry you in a heartbeat.” _

_ “Is that enough of a possible future to keep you motivated?” _

_ “I don’t know…” _

_ “How about us getting married after you finish college? How does that do for your motivation?” _

_ The conversation paused before Lance responded, “Then I want a ring before I go away.” _

_ “Wouldn’t have it any other way.” Keith lifted his head and pressed his lips against Lance’s gently before returning to his sketchbook. _

_ “Wake me up when you’re done, babe. The anxiety tired me out.” Lance slid down so his head rested on Keith’s chest. _

_ Keith ran his fingers through Lance’s hair briefly, “Rest well.” _

 

 

* * *

 

Shiro poured Matt another drink and handed it to him. The sound of liquid hitting glass was drowned out by the New Year’s Eve broadcast that filled the background as friends and neighbors did their best to sit around the solo coffee table in a comfortable manner. Lance had taken his seat on the floor with Hunk to his right and Allura to his left. The latter was dressed in a light pink turtleneck sweater and a pair of faded blue skinny jeans. Her silver locks were pinned into an updo, and gold earrings dangled from her earlobes. Allura was a few years older than Lance and a few younger than Shiro. He had met Allura a year after he initially dropped out from college. He had shown up at Shiro and Matt’s door unexpectedly after a particularly nasty argument with his dad, and she had been drinking coffee at the duo’s kitchen table. Luckily for Lance, the woman loved gossip and was more than happy to listen to his complaints, starting a friendship that’s lasted since.

Across from him sat Coran, a man with bright orange hair across his head and face, creating a signature look for his mustache. He lived with Allura and her father, Alfor, ever since Allura had made the decision to move back in. Her father had gotten too sick to work full time, and she had been more than happy to start supporting him financially. From what Lance understood, Allura had been a ‘daddy’s little princess’ type of girl growing up, and Coran was her cousin or something. Honestly, he was not exactly sure. He was around Shiro’s age, maybe a few years older which placed him into his early thirties, but nonetheless, he fit seamlessly into the odd dynamic of the group.

Next to Coran was a middle-aged man with a strong jawline, decorated with a beard. His dark hair was kept to the top of his head and the sideburns that framed his face. He was dressed in a blue sweater with a white collared shirt underneath. A matching tie completed the outfit, tucked in with only the knot visible. The man’s name was Thace, one of Shiro and Matt’s neighbors in the building. Lance was not entirely sure what the man did for a living, but what he did know was that he was not ashamed to admit his occasional flirting with him. He did not expect it to ever go anywhere nor did he want it to. He was pretty certain the man he had seen walking out of Thace’s apartment a few times was his boyfriend, but that would not stop Lance from admitting the man was attractive.

To the other side of Coran was a young woman around the same age as Hunk and Lance. She had short black hair that ended right below her earlobes and large golden hoop earrings. She was in a white top partially covered by a black cardigan. She was a friend of Hunk’s and had gone to the same college as him and Lance. Her and Hunk had moved in together off campus for their senior year once Lance had dropped out in the middle of their first semester of junior year. Left without of roommate for the next year, Hunk had met Shay in one of his physics labs, and after finding out that they both really clicked, the two had agreed to live together. Hunk had said that if she had not decided to get her masters at a school further away, the two would be roommates right now.

And unfortunately, next to Shay was Keith. Keith with his stupid hair tied back into a stupid ponytail and his stupid ears pierced with stupid gauges. He sat with one leg out under the table and the other bent, held up by his arms hugging it toward his chest. He was clothed in a gray sweater with the words  _ this is my gay apparel  _ printed throughout the front and a pair of black skinny jeans. A smile spread across his face, and his purple irises lit up as he conversed with the rest of the table. He had originally been sitting between Allura and Pidge, but had moved his seat to the spot next to Shay and Hunk once Thace had came to join them and he had been in the kitchen.

Two weeks ago, Lance did not think he would be spending New Year’s with his ex-boyfriend, nor did he think he would even be talking to him. Yet, here he was. Sitting across the table from Keith Gyeong during a game of ‘never have I ever’, drink in hand and laughter pouring out after each question. 

Finally, Pidge entered the room adorned in a green wool sweater and black leggings. Her long, curly hair was no longer up in her signature ponytail but down and flowing against her back. She had spent the last few minutes in the bathroom and retook her seat next to Thace upon returning. Matt and Shiro slid off the couch, and Matt made his home against Shiro’s chest and between his legs before she spoke, “Alright, alright. I’m good now. Who’s turn is it?”

“Mine.” Allura chirped much too excitedly, “Never have I ever gotten so drunk I called out of work the next day.” Lance, Shiro, and Thace all took a shot and Allura smirked, “Really Takashi?”

“I was a bit of a frat boy back in college. A smart frat boy, but a frat boy nonetheless.” He replied with a small laugh to his voice, “Alright, Keith’s turn.”

“Hmm…” Keith swished the contents of his glass around, “Never have I ever… kissed a girl.”

Some rolled their eyes, others let out a sigh, and a few let out a laugh as the group watched Shiro, Allura, Pidge, Lance, Thace, and Hunk each take a shot.

“I thought you were gay Thace,” Allura pointed out, leaning her weight on the coffee table to get closer to her person of interest.

“I’m not Matt. I didn’t always know. Took a while to figure out.”

“Fair answer. I didn’t realize I was pan, until I was sixteen.” Shiro added.

“Okay, but everyone else knew long before that.” Keith started to laugh as he began the next part of his phrase, “When you came out, mom literally opened the closest closet door, poked her head in, and asked, ‘So, are you coming out yet, Takashi? ‘Cause that’s what we’ve all been wondering’.”

Shiro let out a hearty laugh, “Yeah, she did, didn’t she.”

Matt turned his head to face his roommate, “No way. You’re kidding me Shiro. Your mom did not actually open a closet door to make a joke about how she already knew.”

“She did. I was there.” Lance confirmed, “Next day, she threw a mini party with a cake in the colors of the pan flag, so Shiro would know he was accepted. She sat down with him to make sure she understood what it meant and how he felt and everything too. And when Keith came out, his dad told him on his birthday that he had to find his birthday presents himself, and that they’d be where he was this time last year. They were all in the closet.”

“Oh my god, I think that’s actually one of the best things I’ve ever heard.” Hunk commented, “I can’t believe your dad put your birthday presents in a closet.”

“He just wanted to see Keith happy.” Lance replied, “Pidge, it’s your turn right?”

“Yep, and I’m going to raise Keith one, and say never have I ever kissed a boy.” She turned to the male in question with a smug look.

“Come on guys, really?” Lance protested before taking a shot alongside Shiro, Thace, Coran, Hunk, Shay, Matt, and Keith, “You all suck.”

“Not as much as you.” Pidge teased.

“Excuse you, I only suck dick if the person attached to that dick is cute too. Plus, take me on a few dates first. Like, yeah, one date is cool and all but, that’s just not enough to start expecting stuff, you know?” Lance began to ramble by the end of his statement.

“Agreed. I mean, I guess if you both want to move fast and it’s consensual, it’s fine. But personally, that’s a bit much for me.” Hunk commented.

“I can’t even imagine going on a date with someone I wasn’t already really close friends with in the first place.” Shiro added, shifting into a slightly more comfortable position.

“That’s because you’re demi, Shiro.” Keith reminded.

“So, the rest of you would go on a date with someone you just met?”

“I wouldn’t say just met, but I wouldn’t be concerned if we weren’t that close. The date’s to get to know each other better too.” Thace replied.

“Anyone else? Or am I just strange?”

“I don’t really date, so I can’t help you.” Keith said.

“I wouldn’t call it strange at all. Just that it’s not a necessity to me. I think if say, someone at work asked me out on a date, I could say yes and it wouldn’t be awkward. I know enough about them that I know they’re not a bad person at that point.” Allura clarified.

“Alright, alright. It’s Coran’s turn right?” Lance interrupted.

“Alright. How about, never have I ever been in handcuffs.” Coran proposed.

Lance took a shot, then glanced around the table. He paused for a moment before he spoke, “No way. Only me?”

“So Lance, when did you get arrested? What did you do?” Allura pressed.

“I never said I got arrested… Wait! You were talking about being arrested?! Fuck!” Lance leaned his forehead against the top of the coffee table.

“Well, now we know some tmi things about Lance.” Shiro tilted his head to speak softly to the man sitting on the floor between his legs, “Do you want to go first Matt? Or should I?”

“I’m good with whatever you want.” Matt replied as if him and Shiro were having a private conversation.

“Well, what do you want?” Shiro asked.

Matt smiled at him, “Whatever works for you.” After a moment, Matt leaned up to whisper something into his roommate’s ear, unintelligible to everyone else in the room.

“Alright, no one else is going to say it, so I will.” Hunk pressed the palms of his hands together, fingertips meeting. He brought his hands down towards the table without breaking their contact with one another, “When’s the wedding?” 

“Thank you!” Lance threw his hands into the air.

“Yeah. You two have been awfully close.” Allura teased.

“What?!” The two men said in unision.

“Look, look, look. There’s nothing going on between Matt and I.” Shiro insisted.

“Bull. Shit.” Allura replied.

“We’re serious!” Matt persisted.

“They’ll come to terms with it eventually.” Coran added.

“Let’s just play the game. I’m sure we can use it to get all the information we want.” Lance butted in.

Shiro rolled his eyes, “Matt, you can go first.”

“Alright.” Matt let a devious smirk cross his face, “Never have I ever snooped through someone’s stuff and not told them.” He laughed as Hunk and Allura both took a shot.

“That was cheap.” Hunk complained.

“Then mind your business.” Matt leaned back onto Shiro’s chest.

“Alright, my turn. Never have I ever thrown up on a rollercoaster.”

“Again?” Hunk took another shot, “I’m being personally attacked now.”

“Shay’s turn.” Shiro informed.

“Never have I ever... “ She paused to think, “Been in a threesome.”

Shiro and Lance both took a shot from the small glasses in their hands. From the corner of his eye, Lance noticed Keith’s lips tighten and eyebrows furrow slightly. But, with his head beginning to feel the effects of the shots he had been taking, he let the change roll off his shoulders and refocused on the game. 

“We’re learning new things about Shiro tonight too.” Allura taunted in a friendly manner.

“So, you’re saying you expected me to have been in a threesome?” Lance questioned.

“I think you admitting you’ve been handcuffed in bed is a bigger confession than a threesome.” Allura pointed out.

“Okay, I’m kinky. So what?” 

“Nothing. Just that I think you casually admitting you like bondage is a step above admitting you’ve been in a threesome.” 

“Fine. But I’m watching you.”

“I’m innocent, I swear.” Allura held her hands up in mock defense.

“My turn.” Hunk announced, “Never have I ever been in a fist fight.”

Keith took a shot, “I’m the only one?”

“Yes, not everyone impulsively jumps into fights Keith.” Shiro said, taking a verbal jab at his adoptive brother.

“Now, now. We have to love Keith for who he is Shiro.” Coran insisted.

“Please tell me you weren’t getting in bar fights while you were away, Keith.” 

“No. I almost fought a guy for messing with my bike, but besides that, I’ve been pretty good. By my standards at least.”

“Good. You don’t need an arrest record. Your turn Lance.”

“Never have I ever smoked weed.” Lance leaned his weight onto the table.

Both Keith and Matt took a shot, and Shiro was the first to comment, “Keith! When did you smoke?!”

“Calm down Shiro. It was legal.”

“How was it legal?” Shiro gave him the look of a parent scolding their teenage child.

“I spent some time in Colorado. I dated a guy there for a bit, and I crashed with him.”

Shiro sighed in response, “As long as you’re not doing it here.”

“I told you, I’m getting my shit together.”

“If you say so. Allura your turn.”

“Alright. Now you and Matt have to answer.” Allura smirked, “Never have I ever slept with someone in this room.”

Once again, life just absolutely hated Lance, did it not?

Blue eyes met purple ones from across the table, and the room was coated with a thick, uncomfortable silence. Gazes fell on the pair of interest, which, for Lance, was luckily Shiro and Matt. Yet, the sound of glass leaving the tabletop caught the attention of the group as both Lance and Keith awkwardly took a shot. For a few moments, no one dared to say a word to either of them, and Lance found himself to be the one to break the silence before anyone, by which he most definitely meant Allura, could have the chance to press embarrassing questions.

“It was a long time ago…”

“Really? He’s only been here for a few weeks at most, Lance.” Allura leaned her elbow on the coffee table and faced him, “What are you not telling us?”

“No. Not like that. We—”

“We’re ex-boyfriends. We dated for a while in high school.” Keith interrupted.

“Yeah, we broke up during our senior year.” Lance clarified.

“What a shame. You two seem like you’d make a cute couple.” She teased.

“Yeah, look, can we not talk about this?” Lance broke eye contact and bit his lip. His toes curled in, and he began to rub the skin of his ankle’s with his thumb, his right thumb running over the unfortunate tattoo he had gotten during his second year in college.

“Agreed.” Keith said, backing up Lance, “It was five years ago. We don’t need to talk about it anymore.” After a short pause, Keith continued the game, “Never have I ever gotten a tattoo.”

“I’m being attacked. You know too much about me for this to be comfortable.” Lance complained.

“Then get me back Fuentes. I’m waiting.” Keith challenged.

“You’re on Gyeong.” 

The game continued on from there. A mix of annoyingly improbable statements and ones that were very obviously focused at certain people took over the night and drinking activities of those in the group. Before the ball had even begun to drop, or the countdown had been mentioned, Lance’s head was swimming with the alcohol from the too many shots he had consumed. He found himself pulling Allura to her feet to dance with her to the sound of popular bands playing through the television. Right hand on her hip and left hand holding hers, he clumsily and carelessly swayed around the living room with Allura in time with the rhythm. The sound of her laughter met each happy drunken comment that spilled out of Lance’s mouth.

Suddenly, his expression faded and Allura took the moment to ask about her friend’s sudden change, “What’s wrong?”

“I don’t have anyone to kiss when the ball drops.” Lance answered, the words coming out in a breath laced with alcohol. A pout spread across his face, “Last year, I was with Plaxum.”

“Aww, guys, who wants to give Lance a kiss when the ball drops? He’s lonely.” Allura announced.

“I’m not lonely. Just single.” Lance protested.

“I’ll give you a kiss on the cheek, Lance.” Hunk offered.

His eyes lit up, “Really?”

“I’ll kiss your cheek too, Lance.” Shiro added with flushed cheeks and a tipsy chuckle.

He began to bounce his body from the balls of his feet, “I have the bestest friends ever.”

“I’ll give you a hug too.” Allura promised.

He shifted his body weight towards her and opened his arms. Excitedly, he moved to wrap them around her, only to lose his already inhibited balance and stumble. Lance hit the floor on his backside, catching himself with his hands and letting out a loud boisterous laugh. The sounds of the TV were placed in an unfair match up against the group as alcohol only turned the volume knob up several dials within those seated at the table.

“Alright Lance, alright Lance. That’s enough. You’ve had enough.” Shiro said this with a laugh, beginning to trip over his words.

“You’re not too sober yourself Shiro.” Matt teased, playfully nuzzling his friend’s cheek.

“Hey, hey, hey, listen, listen. Remember, remember that time…” Lance’s sentence trailed off, and he laid his head onto Hunk’s lap.

“Remember what Lance?” Hunk asked.

“I… I don’t know. I forgot.” He replied with a laugh. Abruptly, his laugh stopped, and his eyes widened. His mouth opened in surprise, and he quickly finished his previous thought, “Oh! Oh, the time when — last New Years! Pidge was drunk off her ass, because she never did shots before, and she kept falling down.”

“You mean like you right now? Except you just can’t hold your liquor.” Allura sat next to him.

“No.” Lance protested, drawing out the vowel in emphasis, “I just drank a lot.”

“Whatever you say Lance.” Shay smiled as she turned to face Lance and Hunk.

“It’s true.” He whined.

Allura hooked her arms under his and pulled him up into a sitting position. She leaned him against her chest, keeping him in an upright position, “It’s okay. The ball will drop soon, and then you can go to bed.” She wrapped her limbs around his torso and continued, “Remember when Shiro sat you up like this, and you reached behind yourself and accidentally groped his chest?”

“He just looked like he was in complete awe,” Katie laughed, her words encompassing a slight slur to them, “His mouth was just dropped open, and he kept patting. He was just like, ‘Oh my god Shiro, nice chest’.”

“Did he really?” Shay giggled.

“Reasons Lance should drink with discretion.” Shiro joked.

“Shh, shh, shh,” Coran hushed, “The ball is about to drop.”

A silence fell over the group, and the voices emitted from the television conquered the room. The annual countdown echoed, and the group chanted in unison alongside it. 

And when the ball dropped, another bottle was popped, drinks were poured, and cheers were exchanged. Allura rested her head on top of Lance’s, and Hunk made good on his promise, pressing his lips to his friend’s cheek. 

“Here’s to a brand new year!” Shiro cheered to the group, accompanying his words with a kiss to Matt’s temple.

“Not dating, yet here they are, exchanging kisses.” Pidge teased.

“Hunk gave Lance a cheek kiss too!” Matt pointed out.

“That’s different.” She insisted. 

“Elaborate.” Shiro leaned his head on Matt’s.

“No one needs to. You both know deep down.” Allura said jokingly, “And where can I bring Lance? He needs to go to bed.”

“No I don’t.” He protested, lengthening the ‘o’ in his last word.

“Lance, you’re drunk.” She said flatly.

“He can stay in my bed until everyone leaves.” Matt offered.

“Alright. Up you go Lance.” Allura shifted and pulled him up from behind. She slung his arm around her shoulders and lead him into Matt’s bedroom. Lying him down, she gently placed his head on the white pillow on the right side of Matt’s bed.

“Come on ‘Llura.” Lance whined.

“No. You’re drunk. I’m doing you a favor, trust me. I’ll take you out for lunch tomorrow if you listen. I’ll pay.”

“Promise?”

“Promise. Besides, I saw a new name come up on your phone, and I need gossip.”

He shifted into a more comfortable position and watched Allura leave the room as his eyelids began to shut. Darkness greeted him and his mind fell into rest.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Crying in one of your best friend's bathroom is exactly how Lance expected to start the new year. Totally.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys! Happy Thursday! This chapter contains trigger warnings for some minor implied past self harm and emotional manipulation.

Blue eyes opened and fought the blazing rays of sunlight that penetrated the bedroom. He threw a pillow over his face and rolled the front of his body into the green, brown, and white horizontally striped comforter. As comfy as his current position was and as horrid as the light pouring into the room became, something was not right. He groaned into the sheets, as he forced his brain to ponder the emotion he was feeling. He laid there for ten, maybe twenty minutes, and then, he threw the pillow off his face and sat up with a sudden realization.

This was not his bed.

His hands filled with a familiar tremble, and he glanced around, drinking in the sight of beige walls and dark wood floors. A white carpet covered the area in front of the nightstand which matched the bedframe and dresser. A framed photo sat on top of the piece of furniture, a duo of a young girl and a male a few years older than her. Both had the same color curly hair at different lengths, and the older of the two adorned glasses. The boy had his arm around the girl as she flashed a peace sign to the camera. Slowly, the features seemed to become more familiar, and then he noticed. Matt and Pidge. Just younger.

Matt. He was in Matt’s room.

Gradually, Lance laid himself back down. With his back against the soft comforter once again, he recalled the events of the previous night; taking shot after shot, swaying to the beat of the music with Allura, and cheering at the countdown. In retrospect, the events were not bad at all, enjoyable in fact.

While the room itself had a relaxing yet slightly unsettling silence to it, faint voices outside the door traveled through the apartment. The sounds of conversation let the residents, both temporary and permanent, know the world outside was awake and lively. He flopped his hand onto the nightstand next to his head several times, eventually managing to get a grasp on his phone. Which he had failed to charge last night.

Great.

The red color on the tiny battery image in the top right corner of the screen mocked him as he checked the time. About eleven a.m.. There was something he was supposed to do, but he just could not remember what it was. It was as if he had done it everyday, and, in the foggy brain he had this morning, it was just centimeters away from him.

It would come to him.

His finger touched the top of the screen and swiped down, revealing the messages he had missed from the night before and the current morning. The bulk of the digital calls for his attention were from Allura and Hunk. According to the text on the screen, the latter had taken a cab home with Shay last night. Eventually, another message popped up in his notifications with an echoing, high-pitched ding.

Queen of My Heart  
  
Let me know when you wake up. I'm still serious about going out to lunch later! <3  
  
Yeah, just now. Any chance you want a super late lunch? My head is killing me.  
  
Sounds good. I’ll drop by Shiro and Matt’s to get you when you’re ready. Or maybe earlier to say hi to them too.

He placed his phone face down on his chest, and the lost thought from earlier hit him like a train at full throttle. Medicine. He had to take his medicine. Immediately sitting up, he rashly threw open the drawer connected to the nightstand. Yet, when he was greeted with a mish mosh of items that he did not remember buying or owning, the same realization from before practically hit him upside the head.

This was not his room. It was Matt’s. Which meant he had left his medication in his duffle bag the night before for safe keeping while he drank. Slowly, he rose from Matt’s bed, which he had found he was not even tucked into, and stood on both feet. He traveled over to the door, turned the golden colored knob, and swung it open. From the door to his right, the one that lead to Shiro’s room, Lance could hear the sound of two voices carry through the room. Two people softly chatted amongst one another, and the voices were far too easy to pinpoint as the two permanent residents of the apartment.

Lance picked up his bag from beside the television stand. An uninvited chilling breeze embraced him before he had a chance to make it to the bathroom. A quick glimpse around the living room showed Katie relaxed on the couch, headphones in ear, and a laptop in use. Her long hair was damp and beginning to curl at the ends as it dried. Adorned in a pair of dark gray sweatpants and an oversized white t-shirt with the classic cliché alien face everyone had seen at least once in their life, she seemed to be intently focused on whatever show she was watching. When the breeze continued, it only took another short glance before Lance found the culprit.

The balcony door was cracked open, and Keith stood leaning on the railing. He was clad in the same leather jacket he had worn to their coffee “meet up” several days earlier. Except from this angle, Lance could see a number of other patches decorating the piece of apparel, including something that seemed to be a large robotic lion head sewn into the expanse of the back of the black leather. Keith’s hand raised to his mouth, index and middle finger spread into a v shape, and pressed a white and tan cylindrical object to his lips. It was lit at the end with a faint trail of smoke that rose from the tail of it. Lance watched Keith inhale, the jacket obstructed the stretch of cloth across his chest in a way the man’s normal shirts refused to, and Lance found himself cursing the cold weather.

His gaze began to trail down to the rest of Keith’s outfit. The faded blue skinny jeans hugged the black-haired man’s legs and backside. The knuckle of his index finger found home in his mouth and between his teeth. Biting down gently, he took notice to the wallet chain that led into Keith’s back pocket. His mind lost itself in the view and came to a new conclusion.

Maybe cold weather had its perks.

“Are you looking for something?”

The brown-haired man ripped himself from his ever expanding train of thought, head whipping to face Pidge, “Huh?”

“Are you looking for something?” She repeated.

“Um… yeah. I mean no. No. No, I’m not. I just zoned out. I just wanted a water bottle.”

“Oh, alright.” With that, she popped her left earphone back in and refocused on her show. Lance could only guess what she was watching, but to be fair, he could most likely narrow it down pretty far.

He stepped over to the kitchen. Three or four large cases of water bottles bought in bulk were stacked on top of each other next to the refrigerator. Lance wrestled one loose from the protective plastic and placed his bag onto the counter. Rummaging through it, he managed to retrieve a bright orange bottle with a white top and label. Upon opening it, he quickly took the recommended dose and washed it down. He tossed both back in his bag and ambled over to the bathroom, once again hearing the same two voices from Shiro’s room. This time, a soft laugh could be heard through the wood.

If Shiro and Matt were fooling anyone about their feelings, they were only fooling themselves.

He entered the bathroom and locked the door behind him. Pulling the sweater he wore last night over his head, he gazed at his bare top half in the mirror. He extended his left arm toward the reflective glass and inspected his skin for the small imperfections that lasted after years of routine skin care. The fingers from his right hand grazed over the arm in question, stopping at the couple of faded white lines he hated the most. He bit his lip as his thumb ran over the most prominent scar, one that raised above his skin and evaded all possible treatments, one that carried such a terrible memory in which he wished more than anything he could put behind him.

Wetness pricked his blue eyes, and he could feel it set in. The same feeling that caused so many episodes just like this one. Moments where everything just felt so _heavy_ , and it weighed down on him as if someone had dropped a pile of bricks on his body. It would take the added weight of a feather to collapse the infrastructure of his mental health, for him to start tearing apart everything about himself, everything that was wrong with him. He could scrawl out a whole ten-paged list on everything he _loathed_ about him and his personality and his body and the way he behaved and anything that he could think of that just so happened to be connected to him in some way.

And in these moments, wistfully, it would all be genuine. The only thing able to aid him in any appropriate way was to bite his lip and forcefully hold the water in his eyes back. Well, of course, there were _other_ ways to deal with what he was feeling, but they were not safe, nor appropriate. Either way, he had promised his friends he would not engage in that behavior anymore. If anything, his friends had shown him his ability to be rational, even in his bad moments.

But was he really worthy of that kind of dedication? Was it even real? All he was was a twenty-two year old college dropout with no goals who had to struggle to get out of bed every morning. The same boy who had earned his family’s praises when he announced his college acceptance and acceptance into the astrophysics program of the university was now the disappointment of them all, unable to pull himself together enough to suffer through two more years of education and make himself useful to everyone. And in the event that they were all telling the truth and that all none of this had anything to do with their perception of him, it did not matter, because that’s the only way he could ever manage to see himself. As nothing. He was useless. Just worthless. A waste.

And then it came crashing down. Chest tightening and shaking hands searching for purchase on something, anything, he felt tears roll off his cheeks. With a gasp for air, he tried to force himself to stop. This was not the time nor the place. Especially with Keith so happily beyond that door. Yet, when it did not work, he executed Plan B. Not all was lost, he could cry for a bit in the shower, come out when he was done, and no one would know.

But, of course, there just had to be a knock at the door.

He forced himself to turn the knob and swing open the piece of wood, and, when he saw who was on the other side, it took everything in him not to slam it back closed. There stood Keith, clad in the same outfit he had unintentionally memorized in so much detail. In the close proximity, the ashy smell of cigarette smoke rose from the other man, solidifying that this was real, oh so very real and mortifying.

Lance had some very choice words to exchange with whatever puppetmaster was controlling his life, because this was not funny.

“Lance?” Keith asked, concern filling his voice. Lance quickly went to furiously wiping his eyes in a feeble attempt to erase any sign of emotional distress, but Keith was already acting on his next split-second decision and rapped his knuckles on Shiro’s bedroom door, “Shiro!”

A minute had not even passed before the older man opened his door in messed hair and nothing but sweatpants. “What’s wrong Keith?”

“Not me.”

It only took him a second to notice Lance in the bathroom doorway, “Lance!” He immediately calmed his voice and spoke again, “Hey, hey, what’s wrong?”

All Lance could do was shake his head and attempt to get rid of his tears once more.

Shiro had not even bothered to grab his prosthetic before he lead his friend to the couch with one hand. Gently, he guided Lance to sit next to him, “Talk to me. It won’t get better if you bottle it up.” When he got no response but another shake of the head, Shiro tested another approach, “Do you just want to cry for a bit first?” When Lance gave him a nod, he opened his arms, “Come here.”

The younger of the two scooted toward Shiro, and the moment he felt strong, muscular arms wrap around his body. He pressed his face into the bare chest in front of him. His eyes continued to release salty tears as he was held securely. A smaller hand made contact with one of his. It gripped around his and sent a second wave of comfort through him. Finally, after enough tears had been shed to further dehydrate his already fluid-deprived body, he emerged from the pectorals he had poured his emotions into. Shiro kept his hand on Lance’s shoulder, and Pidge had a reassuring grip on his hand.

“Ready to talk?” Shiro inquired.

“There’s not really anything to talk about…” He said, voice soft and back of his hand wiping away the tears left behind.

“Says the one who’s crying. Lance, your feelings are important. And no self-deprecating comments.” Pidge scolded.

“I just had a moment, just thought of some bad things.”

“And those were?” Shiro pressed.

He pressed his lips into a thin line. Maybe he would have felt okay letting his emotions out, that is, if he had not been in a room with four other people. Especially when one of them happened to be Keith.

“Lance, if you don’t talk about it, then it won’t get any better.” A new voice fell into the mix, and the only thought that dawned on Lance was that there was absolutely no way Keith had just said, just mustered up the audacity, to tell him that _he_ needed to talk about his issues. The man that dumped him out of the blue and disappeared without a word for five years could not tell him that he was the one not communicating.

Oh no. He was not going to sit there and take that.

“Don’t you think that’s a bit hypocritical? For you of all people to say that, Mr. I-Don’t-Know-How-To-Deal-With-My-Problems-So-I-Just-Up-And-Disappear-For-Five-Years.”

“That doesn’t matter. It has nothing to do with the valid point I just made.”

“Oh my God Keith! It has more to do with it than you would ever know. ‘Cause you know what? Maybe I want to be just like you and ignore it all! ‘Cause if I’m going to start following your advice, that just seems to be your go-to plan for everything!”

“Stop being an ass Lance!” Keith snapped

“Then maybe you should’ve followed your own advice five years ago!” He rose from the couch and to his feet as the statement left his mouth. Not another thought crossed his mind besides the fact that he not only wanted to leave, he _needed_ to leave that room. It did not matter where exactly he was going, just away and wherever his feet carried him was fine as long as it left Keith on the complete other side of the entire fucking planet. The sound of the door hitting the frame behind him rang in his ears as the white interior of the apartment began to blend into the steel blue of the hallway walls, letting everything in his peripherals turn into an adrenaline-created blur.

When his feet finally came to a stop, he found himself with the whirring of cars in the distance behind him. It was only moments after that his senses became intensely aware of the white snowflakes between his bare toes and the chill of the January breeze wrapped around his exposed torso. Running outside on impulse was not a good idea, but now he was stuck with it. So, he had two options: hang out outside in the cold or go back inside after making a huge scene without thinking and explaining himself. Lance could feel his heartbeat begin to pick up speed at the thought of that confrontation.

Yeah, no, he was going to stay outside for a bit. He was probably going to be sick at this rate anyway, might as well just roll with it. Even if he was going to spend the next week with a runny nose and a fever, it was better than dealing with Keith’s stupid, smug face knowing he could get at Lance in the way he did.

On the other hand, a shirtless and barefoot twenty-two year old hanging out on the side of the road was sure to attract quite a few stares and judgements. So, maybe he really should turn around and go back to Shiro’s apartment before he got strangers creating faulty opinions of him on the basis of his out-of-place attire. Either way, with either decision, he was basically fucked.

What a completely wonderful start to his morning.

A defeated sigh passed through his lips, and his feet sunk further into the snow. Okay, maybe he should go back before frostbite teamed up with his bad luck and bit him in the ass.

He trudged his way through nature’s cold torture device and buzzed back into his friend’s apartment building. A plan formulated in his head as he rode the elevator up. He would enter quickly and quietly, head right for the bathroom, and start himself a hot bath. He would ignore Keith completely, there was no way his stupid ex-boyfriend was going to get any satisfaction out of this. If Shiro, Matt, or Pidge asked, maybe he would give them an answer, but not Keith. No way in hell.

The elevator doors slid apart and into their respective holding areas. Lance stepped out and let his feet touch the carpeted floor that was shared between everyone on the floor. It was alright though. He was only a few doors from Shiro and Matt’s apartment which just so happened to have the comfiest rug known to man in Shiro’s bedroom. He could lay his whole body on it soon. But before he could enter the apartment, his hand froze curled around the doorknob as a voice slipped through the sealed doorway.

“I didn’t want him to run away!”

“Keith, calm down.”

“What if he does something self-destructive, Takashi?!”

“Keith, you need to breathe.”

“No, I don’t!”

“Keith! Lance is going to be fine. Trust me, Hunk, Shiro, Matt and I have been friends with Lance through some really rough patches. Especially Hunk and Shiro. If Shiro is telling you Lance will be fine, then Lance will be fine. He just needs to cool off. He’s obviously upset and needs to deal with it. If we walked out, he probably just wants to be alone for a bit.”

“But in high school—”

“I know how worried you would be about him when you two were younger, but you’re not in high school anymore. You’re an adult and so is Lance. You’ve changed a lot since then and so has he. He’s okay Keith, I promise.”

“But—”

“Shhhh, it’s okay Keith.”

“I feel like such an ass… I didn’t want to make him worse. Blatantly stating things used to work when we were together. I didn’t think he’d walk out, okay?”

“No one’s blaming you. I’ll go get a shirt on and look for him, but maybe you need to think about how exactly you treat Lance. You two aren’t dating anymore, and you haven’t spoken with him in five years. Instead of treating him like he’s still your boyfriend, just try treating him as a new friend. I’m sure you’d get a better reaction. Don’t expect him to open up to you the same way he used to. You two aren’t as close as you used to be.”

“But it’s so awkward.”

“Well, your actions have consequences Keith. You broke up with Lance and didn’t talk to him for five years, you cut ties and now you have to live with that. If you want to have a friendship with Lance now, you’re going to have to start from scratch. He’s not obligated to trust you.”

“Okay, but he doesn’t even want to talk to me. How am I supposed to earn back trust when he won’t give me the time of day?”

“You’re a smart man Keith. If it means that much to you to make things okay with Lance, then you’ll figure it out. But it won’t be genuine, unless you come up with the idea yourself.”

Keith’s voice stopped replying, and a silence coated the three on the other side of the white door. Finally, Shiro’s voice spoke.

“I’m going to get a shirt on and look for him. Let me know if he comes back here.”

Well, he might as well open the door before he made Shiro get dressed for nothing. With a sigh, he swung the hunk of wood forward and stepped inside.

When everyone’s eyes snapped up at him, his stomach dropped.

“I’m going to take a bath.” He forced out on impulse, quickly making his way to his friends’ bathroom. Instantly, he turned the lock and leaned against the door. Anything to put a barrier between himself and the outside world. Alone. He needed to be alone.

After a few moments dedicated to calming his mind and body, his hand pulled out the knob above the bathtub faucet. He pulled off his remaining clothes, testing the water temperature every minute or so, then plugged the drain and stepped in.

Sinking into the heated water, his mind replayed the conversation he eavesdropped on. Most specifically, the fact that Keith did not actually hate him. That Keith _apparently_ wanted to make sure he was okay after his outburst. And that Keith just had no way of reaching him.

No. That was a lie. It was so obvious. There was no way Keith actually wanted to make sure he was okay. Keith did not care. If he did, he would of been making a point to stay in contact with Lance after they broke up. Keith could have given him a reason for the break up. Instead, he let Lance drown in his own anxieties and depression simultaneously poisoned his brain for a year and a half. There was no way Keith cared.

Right?

A familiar sequence of tones played from his phone. With his mind successfully distracted from his negative and anxiety-provoking thoughts, he retrieved his smartphone from the edge of the tub and read the notification occupying his screen.

**Facetime Video From Prince Charming**

He sat up, swiping his finger along his screen at the same time. A face coupled with long platinum blonde hair appeared. One stray band fell in front of the man’s face, and he adjusted the angle so the camera captured him starting from his broad shoulders, “Hey Angel Eyes. Happy New Years. Shirtless just for me?”

Lance rolled his eyes in response, “I’m in the bath, Lotor.”

“Without me?”

“Oh my god,” he let out an exasperated sigh, “cut it out. I told you, I’m not interested in dating right now.”

“That’s not what you said before.”

“Yeah. What I said before was along the lines of let’s just start talking again and see where it goes. I never said anything close to let’s talk again and then I’ll date you.”

“But you missed me.”

“I can easily go back to not talking to you again.”

“Can you really though?”

“Yes.”

“But here you are, talking to me on FaceTime. You like talking to me. Admit it. Because I like talking to you, handsome.” The man on the other side of the call paired his last words with a higher pitch and a charming curl of his lips.

Lance felt his own smile grow on his face, and a part of himself hated that he let it slip, “So what if I do?”

“Then you’ve made me a very happy man, Lance.” When Lotor was met with a lack of what he probably considered an adequate response, he spoke again, “What’s wrong? You have that face.”

“Bad mood.”

“About?”

“Depression, anxiety, my life. Ya know, that stuff.”

“Really Lance? _That’s_ what’s bothering you? You do know all that stuff is just in your head, right?”

“Yeah, I know. That’s why it’s called a _mental_ illness.”

“Lance, we’ve had this talk before. You don’t even try to be happy. The whole time we were together, it was all about how you were miserable. I can’t have any sympathy if you don’t even try to see the good things.”

“I do try! How can you say something like that?!” Lance snapped.

“Because it’s true. You never seem upset, until something bad happens. You were fine when you called me yesterday, and now, it’s just complaining again. I don’t think you’re really _that_ depressed. Aren’t depressed people supposed to not leave bed, not shower, or eat too much? Look at you. You’re always awake, and you always refuse food. You’re bathing right now, too. If you were actually depressed you’d be stuck in bed right now. You just waste money on those medications.”

“They do help. They help a lot.”

“Do they really?”

“Yes!”

“But you still say you’re miserable. If you actually had depression or anxiety or whatever, then shouldn’t you be happy now?”

“It’s not like that.”

“So then, you’re not really upset.”

“No. I am.”

“Then your medicine is useless. It’s either you actually have depression, and your medicine makes you happy. Or you don’t, and you’re just too lazy to fix your attitude. Which is it?”

“I…”

“Medication can’t fix a problem that doesn’t exist. You’d be happier if you’d admit that to yourself. People would like you better too.”

“I don’t think I make people dislike me that much… do I?”

“It’s exhausting for everyone. Trust me.”

Lance broke the unsteady eye contact he had been holding throughout the conversation. He pulled his lower lip between his teeth and focused his eyes briefly on the water around him. Only when Lotor’s voice came through the phone again did Lance raise his eyes to meet the purple ones looking back at him.

“Don’t take it harshly Lance. The only reason I tell you these things is, because I care about you. You deserve to know, so you can fix yourself.” When Lance failed to come up with a response, Lotor continued, “Don’t worry, I’ll never leave you, alright? You can always come to me.”

Lance gave him a single nod, tracing a raised scar on the inside of his wrist as he listened. Unfortunately, the action did nothing to ease the bubbling anxiety in his mind.

“Cheer up Angel Eyes. I’m going to be coming to your town this weekend. I was hoping I’d get to see you.”

“I don’t know… I have work…”

“Just ask your dad for the day off. Your parents love me.”

“I could ask…”

“Don’t you want to see me? If you don’t want to, just tell me Lance. I’ll stop wasting my time then.”

“No!” His body lurched forward with the intensity of his statement, “I’ll ask him tonight. I promise.”

A smile took over Lotor’s lips, “And could I stay with you? You’re not going to make me go get a hotel, right?”

“I’ll ask my parents tonight. I think, I think it should be okay.”

“What a good pet. I’ll have gifts too.”

“What? Lotor, no, I’m not your boyfriend.”

“Nonsense. Let me be nice to you.”

“But—”

“It’s only right I give something to my host, isn’t it?”

“I mean, I guess. But it still doesn’t feel comfortable exactly.”

“That’s just because no one treats you right. You’re lucky I’m here to fix that. I have to get going. I’ll see you in a few days, Angel Eyes.”

Before a response could leave Lance’s mouth, Lotor’s face had disappeared from his phone screen, leaving Lance to stare blankly at his lock screen. Sinking back into the tub, he placed the object back where it had originally been laying. A sigh escaped his lips, and he tried to lose himself and his thoughts in the warmth surrounding him. The day was not even halfway over, and he was already feeling the strain of the hours he had been awake for.

The additional wave of exhaustion that came over him moments later had him wishing this was an end-of-the-day bath instead of an early morning one. Silently, he recalled the responsibilities he still had left for the day, and his brain reminded him about his promise to Allura. He was supposed to go to lunch in a few hours and inevitably talk about his “mystery man” and, most likely, Keith as well. He was about to go and have two very unpleasant conversations.

Great.


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Apparently, you don't have to have been involved in a crime to be interrogated. You just have to be friends with Hunk and Allura.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's Thursday again! Hope everyone's week is going well! Let's all wish the birthday boy a happy birthday tomorrow!
> 
> Trigger warning for mentions of internalized homophobia.

Leaving Shiro and Matt’s apartment proved to be a much greater task than Lance had originally planned. Pidge had bombarded him with a million questions when he exited the bathroom, as she did when her mind ran into overdrive and turbulent thoughts swiped away other thoughts, letting the same ones circle over and over until she ran out of energy. But, Lance had been there often enough. There was no way he could get upset with his younger friend for something he knew was so hard to control and had experienced way too many times in his life. 

Shiro had also proven to be an obstacle as well. He had started to become extremely anxious as soon as Lance mentioned he would be driving home. The occurrence of Shiro’s anxiety heightening with the mention of his friends and automobiles in the same sentence was anything but unusual, but it did not cancel out any of his frustration in the moment. Unlike Pidge’s anxiety, Shiro’s had always been a bit more complex and harder to understand. Suffering from Generalized Anxiety Disorder, what Lance and Pidge were both unfortunate enough to suffer from, was much different from the Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder that Lance knew plagued his friend’s life in a way that, even after several years of friendship, was hard to grasp. While Lance was no stranger to anxiety and depression induced insomnia himself, he had always gotten the impression that the severe insomnia that his friend had been dealing with for five years was on another level entirely. Especially when Shiro would awaken in cold sweat, hyperventilating, and at times completely distrustful of his surroundings, wondering if he was still dreaming or not. The look on his face each time was one of striking vulnerability, one that was always startlingly unlike the strong and caretaking personality that Shiro showed the world, the only side of him the majority of the world would see. Except for their small, intimate group. Different members of the group had experienced different symptoms from Shiro’s Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder-induced anxiety. He could not account for everything the others had seen, but for Lance, he could confirm he had been witness to even the most severe and troubling of Shiro’s episodes. Most notably, the time last year when Lance had been driving through a particularly nasty New York snowfall. 

The car had abruptly lost traction. Luckily, Lance’s quick reaction time had saved the pair and the automobile from any actual danger, but moments later, Shiro had no longer been himself. The space between them had suddenly filled with his friend’s yelling, pleading, and begging for Lance to stop the car, to pull over, anything that would involve letting him out of the moving vehicle. 

Lance never forgot the desperation coating every word from Shiro’s mouth, never forgot the pure, unadulterated fear that seized his eyes. It was a look that had forever integrated itself into Lance’s memory. And what happened after that event just might be even more vivid in his mind.

Once Shiro had begun to threaten throwing himself out of the car, Lance had pulled over onto the shoulder of the highway. Other cars zoomed past on his left as his friend quickly exited and stumbled onto snow-covered tar. Swiftly, he followed Shiro out into the open, braving the cold in only the warmth provided by the other man’s worn out high school varsity jacket. He watched his friend closely and intently, observing from a safe distance before making the decision to approach or not. The continued traffic had been anything but a help to Shiro’s building anxiety. One moment he was in a state of hypervigilance, and the next, he seemed to just shut down. He had gone from standing tall to his upper body leaning forward, as if he had all but fallen asleep on his feet. His eyes focused on nothing, his head facing the slush that covered the road, still and unmoving. 

And Lance knew better than his next move, knew better than to approach Shiro head-on in such a state. But, he did so anyway. There was no way his conscious would let him get away with letting his friend have a PTSD episode in the middle of a snowy highway. Yet, when he attempted to coax Shiro back into the vehicle, Lance was met with a solid blow to his face.

Shiro had been absolutely mortified when his mind had allowed him to come back to reality, and he noticed the purple mark beginning to take form on Lance’s cheek. The amount of times the word ‘sorry’ left Shiro’s mouth had even started to become a bit overwhelming, and as the older of the two forced himself to reenter the object that was triggering his anxiety, he was apologizing for the umpteenth time. But Lance could not find it in himself to be resentful. Even as his mood began to resign into an uncharacteristic quiet and his mind ran circles as it drug him back into old memories, he could not blame Shiro. Even if Shiro’s punch had been the anxiety-producing event, it was not his fault. His anxiety in the moment, his thoughts, they were from trauma and unfortunate genetics.

And Shiro was not the cause of that. If anything, Shiro was the opposite.

Regardless, the day was still clear in his mind. Yet, Lance could never bring himself to be angered with him. He knew what it was like to have your mind acting without asking, to be in a state of uncontrollable fear, and Shiro had always been a saint to him. Every time Lance had been irritable, taking a simple action and retaliating with something several steps higher, or yelling, barely provoked, until his voice became hoarse and throat grew sore, Shiro had still been there afterwards.

So no, Lance could never be upset with him. Especially not for something so out of his control. But Keith, Lance could still find it in himself to be bitter and annoyed with him, ex-boyfriend or not. Yet, Lance had managed to surprise himself with the amount of discontent that grew in him when he exited the bathroom to the sight of Keith leaning on the railing of the balcony outside, cigarette in hand and a near empty pack of the white and brown sticks protruding from his jacket pocket. 

Why did Keith feel the need to go on and on to Shiro, Matt, and Pidge if he was just going to go out and smoke instead of actually acting like his statements of caring for Lance still were true? He did not need to lie. If Keith happened to not care about him, it would not be upsetting. It just meant that Lance was right. Keith did not care. It was all for show. Keith just needed to prove to everyone else that he was not a bad person. All he was doing was acting. Acting as if whatever Lance was going through meant anything to him, and it made his blood boil. They dated for three years. They had something, something Lance thought was special, but to Keith, apparently it was anything but.

No. It did not matter. Lance did not care. That was five years ago. Lance knew and dated better people. Keith’s thoughts did not matter and neither did Keith.

Besides, right now, in the subject of boys he may or may not admit having a thing for in the past, he had Lotor’s imminent arrival to worry about. Chances were, Lotor was more interested in him and his emotions than Keith was anyway. Maybe the silver-haired man bossed him around on occasion, but in the end, he had always been able to assure Lance it was for the best, that Lotor was just making a point to guide Lance in the right direction, because he cared about him.

Though, for now, he needed to shift his limited focus to the person he was about to meet up with. With a turn of his hand, Lance shut off the engine to his car. He took a moment to wrap the scarf, hanging loosely from his neck, around himself once more before exiting the slowly decreasing warmth of the vehicle. The light flurry falling from the sky left snowflakes in his exposed hair as he made the trip from his car to the nearby building. It was a small, rectangular building that only had about ten booths and a handful of stools on the inside. To the side of it was a long, tall pole capped with a large oval that had the words  _ The Meadowview Diner _ inscribed on both sides.

The inside had one side with booths, each with red seats and white tables, lined against the windows, and the other with a door and inside window that exposed the kitchen behind the wall. The area was barred off by a tall black tabletop accompanied by a set of stools topped off with red cushions. The walls were decorated with old posters of musicians from a generation before Lance’s and a jukebox took residence in the corner by the restroom. Sometimes it was on, letting the sound of music of various decades flow through the joint, other times the diner would just be filled with the chatter of customers.

Although it was the same sound that surrounded him at work day in and day out, it was comforting, familiar. The kind of familiar that helped to quell his anxiety. And despite her attempts to gossip about Lance’s life with him, he felt safe with Allura.

He pushed open the heavy doors, letting them swing behind him as he scouted the area for Allura. He spotted her familiar head of silver hair seated comfortably in a booth. Ambling over, he popped Shiro a quick text to assure him of his safety and slid into the seat across from her. She was clad in a dark yellow, cable knit sweater and a black infinity scarf. Her silver hair was out of its usual bun, cascading down her back with one stray piece held to the side with a hair clip. Within moments of his arrival, he took it upon himself to start the conversation.

“¿Qué bolá contigo?”

“Llegaste tarde.”

“Lo siento.”

“What were you doing? Having some fun with your new guy?” She accused with a suggestive tone to match.

“What? No! It’s not like that!”

“Oh really? I don’t think most people call their completely platonic friends ‘Prince Charming’ in their phones.”

“Your name in my phone is ‘Queen of My Heart’. And if you’re suddenly not a lesbian and totally into me, that’s news to me.” Lance said in rebuttal.

“Whatever you say,  _ Angel Eyes _ .” Allura made a point to emphasize the nickname she had most likely seen on a notification occupying Lance’s phone last night, a notification from Lotor nonetheless. 

Unfortunately, every time those words were uttered, it was as if Lotor was saying them himself. Lance could feel the blood rush to his cheeks, and he just knew that a nice layer of blush accompanied the involuntary upwards curl of his lips. There was no way he was hiding the details of whatever rekindling he was slowly doing with Lotor when his face insisted on betraying him. It was  _ his _ face, but somehow, it seemed to be both working for Allura and owned by Lotor’s sweet words. Of course, to top it off, Lance was anything but ready to talk about whatever it was he had with Lotor, especially with Allura. She was a great friend, but her inclination for gossip made him wary of revealing certain details prematurely. Yet, here he was, blushing over Lotor’s nickname for him that was not even said by him this time.

Life hated him. It was not even a question.

“Look, look, look. There’s nothing going on.” Lance insisted.

“And now you sound like Shiro.” She teased. She lowered her tone of voice to mimic the man in question, “‘There’s nothing going on between Matt and I even though we’re cuddling right now and I kissed his temple on New Year’s and slept in the same bed with him last night.’ That’s how you sound Lance.”

“You’re the one reading into stuff,” Lance replied with a dismissive wave of his hand. He continued his train of thought moments later, “And besides, it’s not like I’m getting all cuddly in front of everyone and then saying there’s no way there’s a thing going on.”

“So you are cuddly with someone.”

“I never said that.”

“Then who is ‘Prince Charming’?”

“We haven’t even ordered our food yet, and I’m being interrogated.”

“You can’t just act like you having a new boyfriend is something small Lance. Especially when your ex is back in town.”

“Keith and I don’t even talk. It’s not like we just broke up either. He won’t be jealous if I decide to start dating again. If he is, that’s his problem, not mine. I’m over him.”

“So, you’re telling me you feel nothing about him just showing up?”

“I wouldn’t say nothing. But it’s not like I like him anymore. Besides, I’m talking to someone anyway.”

“So you are seeing someone! You just admitted it!”

“I’m not seeing anyone. I’m just talking with a guy I knew when I was in college.”

“But you’re not calling it a friendship Lance.” She pointed out.

“So what? Look, it’s nothing serious. We’re just talking. He calls me a couple times a week, and that’s it. I told him I’m not interested in dating right now.”

“Well, you’re obviously interested in him at least.”

“I don’t even know, okay?” His fingers began to fiddle with the paper napkin holding his silverware, “It’s not really a black or white thing.”

“As in?”

“As in, I don’t know if I want to eventually date him or not. I don’t think we make the best romantic couple, but I don’t know if that’s just me not wanting to date anyone right now or if we really aren’t compatible like that. He does look out for me and that stuff, so it’s not like we’re bad as friends. He cares about me, too. So, that’s a plus. I just… I’m not sure where any of it is going. I guess… I guess if I end up liking him, I’ll like him and we can see where it goes.”

“Hate to break it to you Lance, but you blushed just from hearing his little pet name for you. I think you already like him.” Allura folded her hands together and let them find a home on the table in front of her. She leaned her weight on them as she spoke, “Besides, if you’re smiling when you’re reminded of him, he makes you happy, right?”

“It’s…” His voice trailed off as he gathered his thoughts on the issue, “It’s a lot more complicated than that.”

“How so?”

“It just is. Like, I’ve known him for a while, and I guess it’s just figuring out how exactly I feel about him? I don’t want to date him either way, so maybe it doesn’t even matter.”

“If you say so Lance. But you have to keep me updated, promise?”

“We’ll see.”

“We’ll see? Lance Fuentes, I thought we were closer than that.”

“I don’t want to give out details until I know what direction this whole thing is going in.”

“Fine. But as soon as you know, I want a text.”

“Deal.”

The waitress stopped by briefly to take their orders and preferred drinks. Moments after recording the choices of the pair onto her notepad, she disappeared to the kitchen, leaving Lance and Allura to finish their conversation.

“Can I at least know ‘Prince Charming’’s name?”

“If I decide to bring him along to a hang out, then yes.”

“What harm would it do Lance? I tell you about the girls I like when you ask.”

“It’s just complicated because Hunk and I went to college together and he knows the guy. I don’t want to make a big deal out of this unless I actually decide to date him.” It was not exactly a lie. Lotor did go to college with him and Hunk, and he was also attempting to keep everything on the down-low. But, Allura did not need to know why he was so desperate to keep Hunk especially out of his flirting with Lotor. In fact, he did not want any of his friends involved until he was certain of Lotor’s intentions this time around. He could only hope that things would go as planned.

“Fine, but I have another question.”

He felt his heart rate begin to soar. A part of him wanted to beg for the questions to just stop for five minutes. The topic of Lotor was touched far too many times during this conversation. 

Despite the anxiety beginning to bubble within him, the thought of telling Allura to mind her own business until he was ready only built on the already present symptoms, “I’m probably going to regret this, but shoot.”

“You and Keith. How did that happen?”

“What do you mean how did that happen? We went to school together, we liked each other, and then we decided to date.”

“No. But, how did you two meet? How did you two end up liking each other? You’re both just so different. Keith seems like a lone wolf, and you’re so outgoing.”

“Keith’s not that much of a lone wolf really. He’s just weird. If you find something you have in common with him, he opens up pretty well.”

“You would know, wouldn’t you?” Allura teased, her voice raising in pitch near the end of her statement.

He opened his mouth to retaliate, because, honestly, he was tired of everyone being obnoxious and unable to drop the Keith topic. It was five years ago, and everyone needed to shut up and mind their own business.

“ _ Oh my god _ . Do you want a serious answer or not? ‘Cause I can get the fuck up and leave. I don’t need to sit here and be  _ interrogated _ about all my relationships ever. I’m allowed to just have a relationship with someone and not be questioned ten thousand times. And so what if I’m dating someone? Maybe I deserve to let myself be happy and not worry about the approval of my friends for everyone I talk with. Keith and I dated five years ago too! Do you think it’s comfortable that he just suddenly showed up and treats me just like he did when we were in high school?! It’s not! And I don’t feel like making jokes about an ex like that. So, either be serious, or I’m leaving.”

Okay,  _ that _ was not what he expected to come out of his mouth. Depression-induced irritability and ADHD impulsiveness did not mix. They were like a cocktail made of bleach and ammonia. Both could suck on their own, but were not exactly something you had to fear. Yet, together it became a force to be reckoned with. And the worst part? He did not even know why he was suddenly so bothered. It was not as if he had the best day, but it also was not as if the previous events had made him particularly bothered to the point he would snap at Allura.

Then again, he did have an argument with Keith this morning. Maybe that was an understatement. More like Lance went completely at Keith, went right for his stomach and landed a punch of several especially harsh sentences. But Keith did not count. Keith was not his friend. They had established this back at The Grind. The two of them were only acquaintances. Acquaintances with mutual friends. That was all. So, it did not matter if they got in a little argument here or there. Keith was going to hop back on his bike and skip town again anyway, so who cared?

Lance did not. That was for sure.

He sat there, toes curled in his shoes and brows arched downwards, letting himself bathe in his sudden, almost unexplainable, anger. Even when his emotions took such a shift, so suddenly, so drastically, he did not have it in himself to apologize. Not until he came down from the emotional high, at least. Watching Allura’s body language change, he listened to what she had to say next. Hopefully, she would step back on her statements and leave Lance some room to calm down.

Her lips pressed together, and she seemed to bring them between her teeth. She kept her body leaning slightly back from its previous position. She blinked, then lost eye contact with Lance for a moment, before opening her mouth, “Sorry. I didn’t mean to bother you like that. I didn’t realize you were getting upset.”

“It’s alright.” Maybe God was actually on his side, because those words were just so soothing to hear. The built up tension began to ease from his body, and after a few minutes, he felt more relaxed. Ready to restart the conversation, he opened his mouth and trusted his brain to formulate a sentence of words that were not an outburst, “If you really want to know how we met, I’ll tell you. Just… no more jokes about what I had with Keith. It wasn’t exactly an easy break up, and I don’t want to think about all the details any more than I have to. Okay?”

“I promise.”

“Alright. So, Keith and I met back in middle school. I think it was somewhere around sixth grade? But we didn’t meet in school somehow. We met at an LGBT youth center. I was just figuring out that I liked boys, and I guess, I was kinda confused? So, I asked one of my cousins to drive me. He’s gay, so I guess I felt a bit okay about telling him I was questioning, even though I still lied through my teeth and was like ‘oh yeah, I’m going as support. You know me, total ladies man’. Maybe I didn’t want to explicitly say I thought that maybe I like boys, because, like, what if it turned out I didn’t? I didn’t want to have to go back on the label. I wanted to be sure before I said anything, and I guess I just wanted to learn. I was kinda stuck in that thought process of you’re either straight or you’re gay. I didn’t even realize I was allowed to like boys  _ and _ girls at the same time! Okay, that one right there was a mind-blowing concept to possibly gay sixth grade me. Anyway, so I went into this place, because I wanted to learn more about myself and be around other people who maybe were feeling like I was. The people there were really great actually. They helped me realize I was bi and that that was okay. And while I was there, this person would be there a lot, and keep in mind how out Keith is. Like, he’s literally rainbows on everything and the person who would probably introduce himself as ‘Hi, my name is Gay’, right? Well, this person comes to the meetings, and they tell everyone they’re just an ally. Later, that becomes I don’t know, I’m really confused. So, during these visits to the youth center, we wouldn’t be all about only talking about your feelings. No, we played games and stuff too sometimes. It was a nice way for queer kids to meet other queer kids and make some friends that weren’t homophobic assholes. ‘Cause let’s be real. We live in the middle of bumfuck upstate New York. We’re only a blue state because of the city. And even then, even people who aren’t high-key homophobes can still occasionally be homophobic, so it’s basically a nice place where we can just be a bunch of kids and feel safe. And Keith and I? Well, he never really wanted to join in on any of the games we played. Looking back, I think he was just nervous. He probably was kinda afraid of putting himself out there only to get rejected. And like, I get that. I  _ really _ get that. But, I don’t know. I guess, I thought he just thought he was too good for us at the time? It was probably me having a lot of self-hatred issues and projecting that onto other people, at least that’s what the therapist I saw in college thinks I was doing. But anyway, I thought that he thought that he was better than us all. So, being the little shit of a kid I was, I would egg him on and be like ‘oh, you’re just not playing because you know you’ll lose’. So, he eventually told me to stop being such a prick, and he joined in. From then on, we were super competitive with each other.”

“And how did that turn into ‘I want to kiss his face’?” Allura pressed.

He drummed his fingers against the table, “I’m trying to think of how to put it without telling some super personal stuff about Keith…” He patted the palms of his hands onto his denim-covered thighs for a moment, a motion to get his brain going. Eventually, once his thoughts had been gathered, he continued with his story, “So, Keith and I kinda ended up doing a lot of stuff together, because we were just. So. Competitive. But soon it was more of a friendly competition thing, and I was realizing he’s a pretty alright guy. Especially when I found out that he was a pretty big space nut too. From there, we talked a bunch and began confiding stuff in each other. Honestly, Keith’s the person that helped me actually come out to my family. And when he finally realized who he was, I supported him too. And after that, it just kinda happened. We talked all the time everyday, became best friends, and one day, I just realized I liked him.”

A smile graced Allura’s lips, “It sounds like a cute gay rom-com. For a moment though, I thought you were going to tell me you were Keith’s gay awakening.”

“I wish I was that attractive. No, it’s a bit more complicated than that, but that’s Keith’s story to tell you.” Lance paused his explanation, once the waitress stopped by their booth with a plate in each hand. He passed Allura’s plate over to her, stupidly ignoring the woman’s warning of the plate being hot, which he regretted the exact moment his hand met the white porcelain, and then, let his own meal find a home in front of him. Dedicating a few words to give his thanks to the waitress, because Lord knew he understood the pain of her practically thankless job, he turned back to Allura with a fork in hand, “Although, Keith is the reason I know Shiro, and Shiro is the reason I know you. So, indirectly, Keith is the reason we’re friends.” 

“Well, there’s something Mr. Mothman-Is-Real did that you should be thankful for.”

“Thankful for giving me a second person who interrogates me on my love life? Hunk was bad enough. In college, he would go through my phone when I was asleep to see who I was interested in. Now, I have to worry about you too. I think I could change my passcode a million times, but you’re both so smart, I think you’d find a way to replicate my fingerprint or something. And did Keith already hit you with the cryptid stories? Wouldn’t be surprised if the whole reason he was gone for five years was that he was ‘finding out the truth’.” He changed his tone on the last four words to emphasize the hilarity of such a thought that there were undocumented super creatures living among them.

The woman across from him let out a laugh, “Sounds like it would be an accurate description of something he would do. And what would you do without me? Who else would you bring to your family parties?”

“Hunk. He’ll be my new boyfriend.”

“You’d miss me.”

“Nope. Only bring you ‘cause you speak Spanish.”

She gasped and placed her right hand over her heart in mock hurt, “I’m offended.”

“In all seriousness, I think my family thought we were dating.”

“What changed their mind?”

“They found out you’re gay.”

“That would do it.”

“Not like it bothered me. But my brother asked me how I can have twice the dating pool, but not get a date.”

“Did you put some cold water on that burn?”

“Ha. Funny.”

“I’m kidding. But, does that mean you’re bringing Mystery Man to your next family get together?”

“I was thinking of possibly asking him to come with me to my cousin’s wedding. But that’s also a long way away. So, I can ask him down the road if I end up actually liking him.”

“Don’t go forgetting about me.”

“How could I forget about the most beautiful girl in the world?”

His words were met with a joking eyeroll and a playful tone of voice, “Lance, I’m a lesbian.”

“At least this food will love me.” Lance said, faking heartbreak as he clutched his shirt by his chest.

“Whatever you want to believe.”

“Just let me have this, Allura.”

“Fine, fine.” She resigned.

Without missing a beat, Lance took the cue. Fork in one hand, knife in the other, he went to town on the food sitting in front of him. He let the conversation drift into empty words and topics as the jukebox at the other end of the building mixed in with the noise from the few other groups in the joint, leaving their verbal exchange to be nothing more than muddled sound in the bigger picture.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For anyone wondering what was said at the beginning of Lance and Allura's conversation it was along the lines of:  
> "What's up with you?"  
> "You're late."  
> "I'm sorry."
> 
> To clarify saying qué bolá is a way some Cuban's greet each other, it's less stiff than cómo estás. Just a clarification in case someone needed it.


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Part of Lance does not know how he ended up in this situation, trying to reach every goal post that is constantly moved. The other part knows far too well how this happened.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Season 3 comes out tomorrow! Hope everyone is excited as I am!
> 
> Trigger warnings for mentions of disordered eating, abuse, self harm, and hospitalization. Once again, these are only mentioned.

“David, pass me the arroz and frijoles negros.” Lance instructed his brother, who was comfortably seated at the kitchen table on the other side of the counter that occupied the middle of the room, as he began to shred the steak he had just pulled from the slow cooker.

“Why can’t you do it? I don’t want to get up. I spent all morning helping papi at the restaurant.” The younger of the two in the room complained. He leaned his body weight on the walnut table in front of him. His short, black hair fell forward with him as his brown eyes focused on his phone screen. It was shaved on the sides with the hair on the top of his head spilling into messy bangs littered with sections treated with bleach. The heather gray college sweatshirt clothing his torso scrunched by his waist, and one foot took home on the wooden chair he was seated in.

“Fine. Then I’m eating all the ropa vieja myself.” Lance threatened.

“What?!” David gasped, shooting up and onto his cotton-clad feet.

“Yep. I’ll eat all of it.”

“Bull. Shit. You barely finish your papa rellenas.”

“I will explode if it means getting back at you.”

“I’ll drink all the Materva.”

“Don’t. You. Dare.” Blue eyes met brown ones, accompanying the verbal challenge. Within moments, Lance knew what he had to do. He practically threw down the cooking utensils and scrambled to get traction on the floor, as he raced his younger brother to the basement refrigerator. The loud, clumsy footsteps from the pair against the hardwood floor echoed throughout the house. Most notably, when David’s socks betrayed him, and he came down onto the floor with a loud _crash_. Blue practically lept from the nearby couch at the sound of the commotion. The white ball of fluff sprinted to her favorite hiding spot of between the springs of the second couch and the fabric at the bottom. Every time the family had made efforts to repair it, Blue had just reopened the wound. Eventually, the Fuentes family had decided to give in and let her have her way. It never helped that Lance also insisted on spoiling her, spending unnecessary amounts of money on her and letting her do as she pleased around the house.

David took his moment underneath his brother to quickly grab a fistful of denim and yank it downwards. Suddenly, Lance found himself face-first on the floor, hands barely managing to catch himself. The duo tumbled on the floor, the beginning of a true brother versus brother wrestling match. Lance took advantage of his sibling’s distraction and pulled both of David’s arms behind his back, his own arm pressed his weight into the restrained appendages to hold his brother in place.

“The ropa vieja _and_ the Materva are mine.” Lance declared.

“Over my dead body!” David shouted back, breaking one arm free and shoving it into Lance’s face. He successfully covered his brother’s mouth and began to push him away as he felt a warm, wet sensation on his palm. It did not even take him a minute to realize what had just happened, and he quickly retracted his hand, “Oh my God! Lance, that’s fucking gross!”

“I’m willing to lay down my life for only a few things in life. Ropa vieja and Materva are on that list.”

A pair of feet could be heard descending down the nearby staircase, and both heads snapped up. The noises only came closer and closer, leaving Lance and David to only hope that they would see their little sister come through the doorway to the room.

Well, at least life seemed to have a grudge against David too.

“Hi mami.” Lance greeted with a shit-eating grin.

“What are you boys doing?” She asked, standing above the boys on the floor authoritatively.

“Nothing.” David insisted. He sat up, placing his hands behind him to support his weight.

“It doesn’t look like nothing. You boys are goofing around. You’re supposed to be getting dinner ready for our guest. Lance, your friend is the one coming right?”

“Yes, mami.”

“Then both of you stop eating shit and finish the meal.”

“I was shredding the meat when _David_ was the one who wouldn’t pass me the black beans _or_ the rice.” Lance tattled.

“Lance! You ass!” David shot his older brother a look.

“I’m only telling the truth. I can’t lie to mami.” Lance replied with fake innocence.

“I don’t care who did what, or who started what. We have less than an hour before Lance’s friend is here and the house has to look presentable. If you’re not going to help your brother in the kitchen, then I need you to go vacuum all the rugs.”

“But mami, they were vacuumed the other day.” David complained.

“No arguing.”

David rolled his eyes, but then resigned to his fate, “Fine.”

Lance watched his brother make his way to the closet before he realized his mother had been talking to him, and he forcefully changed his focus, “Sorry.”

“Go finish the food before your friend gets here.”

He nodded, and moved up onto his feet. Making his way down the hallway, he reentered the kitchen. The footsteps behind him signaled his mother’s presence, as he returned to his previous spot on the counter. Occupying himself with his former task once again, he was welcomed with a warm embrace. His body was pulled closer to his mother’s, and he let himself ease into the familiar contact. Every time his mother gave him a hug, he always felt so loved, so cared for. It was a feeling like no other. Even when the people he had dated held him, it was never the same. Nothing made him feel as safe as he did when his mother had him in her arms.

“Is everything alright, mi vida?” She asked, refusing to let Lance out of her loving hold, “I know you have a hard time sometimes.”

Oh great. It was _this_ kind of talk. To be honest, Lance had no idea how to respond. Every time that question came up, one part of him desperately wanted to be open, to pour his emotions out and let her know exactly what he was feeling. Yet, another part of him wanted anything but. If he laid everything out on the table not only would he never hear the end of it, he would be worrying his mother, taking away her time from David and Marissa. Both his younger siblings were still at an age where parental attention was very important, and he could not live with himself knowing he was the reason his siblings had problems. They would have problems all because of his selfishness. Maybe in high school, having a talk about his feelings and mental illnesses with his mother would have been the best decision, but after the stunts he pulled in college that lead to his eventual drop out, a confession of not being too sure of where his mental health was standing would probably mean he would never be left alone again.

“Yeah mami. I’m fine. I just haven’t seen this friend in a while. My mind is somewhere else.” He almost felt sick with himself as he spoke. He absolutely _hated_ lying to his mother, but conflicting feelings lead him to this decision. Now that he opened his own stupid mouth, he was committed to his lie.

“They’re a friend from college right?” He replied to her question with a nod, and then she continued, “Lance, I’m so happy! You haven’t talked to anyone from college but Hunk, since you dropped out and broke up with Lotor. You said you didn’t have any friends from school. Did you reconnect with someone?”

“Um, I guess?” Lance finished shredding the steak and moved his attention to plating the meal he had just created, “I did reconnect, but it’s not like you’re thinking. It’s, um…”

“What is it?”

“I haven’t lied, but I haven’t told the whole truth? The friend coming over is Lotor. My ex-boyfriend from college. Remember him?” His shoulders hunched forward when the words came out, as if he was trying to shrink his body to excuse himself from the incoming reaction.

“Lotor? The sweet one with the long platinum blond hair? You brought him home for Christmas one year, right?”

“Yeah. We started talking again.”

“I’m so glad! He was so nice. He used to bring everyone gifts every time he visited, and he was so good with the family. Are you two getting back together?”

Lance shook his head, “No, we’re friends. I told him I’m not interested in dating.”

“But why not? He was so sweet to you. And he was so excited to be involved with the family. He even played with your baby cousins. He would make a great husband, Lance. He was so attentive to you, too. I felt safe knowing you were dating him. I knew he wouldn’t hurt you.”

His eyes met the ground, unfocusing as he bit his lip, “Did you really feel that good with me dating Lotor?”

“Of course I did. I feel good with anyone I know makes you happy. I felt good with you dating Keith and Plaxum, too. Lotor showed that he wanted to be a good husband for you. I trust him with you, but most of all, I just want you to be able to be happy. Maybe he could take away some of the sadness you feel.”

“I wish it worked like that mami. If it did… maybe Plaxum wouldn’t of dumped me six months before our wedding.”

“Oh Lance… is that what this is about? Are you still upset about her?”

“No, it’s not that. I just don’t know how I feel about dating right now. Jumping into a relationship isn’t going to fix anything. It’s not going to help me feel better about myself or help me move my life forward. So, I just want to take everything slow. If I find someone, I find someone, but actively looking for a relationship hasn’t helped me. I’m not stopping myself from dating, just not focusing on it right now.”

“Do whatever is going to make you happy Lance. That’s all I can ask.”

“I will mami, I promise.”

“Te quiero mucho.”

“I love you too, mami.” He wrapped his arms around her torso. He could definitely say that one of the worst parts of going away to college was being separated from his mother, especially her loving embraces.

A ring echoed throughout the house, ruining the moment, “Colchones. I haven’t even finished plating this. Lotor’s already here. Now he’s going to be waiting and—”

She placed her left hand on top of his, attempting to ease the building nerves in her son, “It’s okay Lance. I’ll finish up. Go greet Lotor.”

“Thanks mami.” He pulled away from his mother and padded down the hallway  to the front door. His hand slid the metal chain lock across and pulled it out of its resting place. With a turn of the knob, he swung the hunk of wood towards him, revealing the same man he had been texting and facetiming in recent months. The lack of physical contact since his junior year of college had left him almost forgetting just how tall his ex-boyfriend’s figure was. His platinum blond hair was tied back neatly into a ponytail that reached past his shoulders, with one stray piece of hair that missed the hair tie falling in front of his face. A black leather jacket covered part of his torso, the unzipped fabric revealing a plain white t-shirt underneath as his neck was fashionably covered with a gray square scarf. Black jeans hugged his long legs, as he stood in the doorway with a confidence Lance hated himself for finding attractive.

It was only after a few moments that he remembered to speak, “Hey.”

Leather-clad arms snaked around his waist, bringing him closer and into his warmth. As he was pressed into the other man’s chest, his instincts overwhelmed him. His first thought was to push him away, to get his hands off of him, to get his invasive touch away from his body. Yet, he craved it too. Craved the intimacy and loving contact Lotor was giving him and craved the attention the embrace stood for. The feel of his body heat was safe, relaxing, and somehow, he found himself wrapping his arms around the taller man’s neck. Easing into Lotor’s hold, he let his mind breathe easy. It was comforting, being held by someone so familiar. Yet, the same embrace held such a mix of affection and unpleasant memories that part of him felt he needed to stay guarded, as if he could do one small thing, and everything would change.

So, he let his body soften into Lotor’s arms, his head leaning against the taller man’s shoulder with his own hold relaxing. He breathed in the fresh smell of the shower gel the other used on the daily that always managed to remind him of pumpkin spice. Yet, when he was greeted with a press of lips to his cheek, accompanied by the same nickname as always, he felt blood rise to his face, and he was suddenly so very aware of the time that had passed.

Pulling away, he beckoned Lotor inside and shut the door behind him, shielding them both from the harsh January air. He reminded his guest to discard of his shoes at the front door, showed him where to hang his coat, and guided him towards the kitchen, “I made ropa vieja and frijoles negros for dinner, a.k.a. David was supposed to help but he’s lazy.”

Lotor’s long fingers took home on his cheek, caressing it as his lips turned up into a smile, “That’s my pet, always ready to step up.”

His lips began to curl involuntarily, and his eyes failed to meet Lotor’s as his response came out, “It’s nothing. Let me go call Marissa for dinner, my dad should be home soon.”

“Whatever you need to do, Angel Eyes.”

Lotor let him go free, and Lance stepped down the hall, turned a corner, and made his way up the carpeted stairs. He traveled down the upstairs hallway, until he stopped in front of a dark brown, wooden door decorated by a yellow and black, metal dollar store sign reading ‘Warning! Strictly no Admittance!’ and ‘Keep out!’ accompanied by a skull and crossbones inside a triangle. He knocked, despite the very obvious warning from his sister and her decor, and informed her of the meal waiting on the table downstairs before retreating to the kitchen.

His mother and Lotor were having a conversation, something about how she was so happy that Lance had let him back into his life, as Marissa ran down the steps, clad in an old graphic tee and denim jeans. Within moments of her entrance, her brown eyes fell on Lotor, and she went from a speed walk to an all out sprint. Throwing herself into Lotor’s arms suddenly, she gave him a tight hug, “Lance! You didn’t tell me you’re dating Lotor again!”

“I, no. Marissa, no. We’re not.”

“Aw, why not? Lotor’s cool. He’s rich too.”

“Marissa!”

“What? It’s true. He always brings us cool stuff when he visits. Did you bring me anything Lotor?”

“Yes, yes. I have something for you. It’s in my car.” Lotor confirmed.

“Wow! Really?! When can I have it?”

“After dinner, I’ll go with your brother to go get it.”

“Promise?”

“I promise.”

The middle schooler let go of the older man and pranced over to her seat at the kitchen table, “Will papi be home soon?”

“Yeah, he should be closing up the restaurant about now.” Lance informed, “Lotor, you should go take a seat. No reason for you to be standing, right?”

“Always so thoughtful.” Lotor praised, before moving over to join the rest of the Fuentes family at the dark, walnut table to the side of the room.

The sound of footsteps traveled through the nearby hallway, and David stepped into the room. He made it halfway to the table before brown eyes narrowed in on the new addition to the dinner. “Hold up.” He directed his focus to his older brother, “Lance. Lotor’s the friend?” When Lance nodded, he continued, extending the first syllable of his response, “Okay, then.”

“David, be nice.” Mrs. Fuentes scolded.

“I am.” David rolled his eyes with his reply.

Before either could fit in another word, the lock on the metal handle of the front door was undone from the other side. The large piece of wood opened inward and into the living room. With the sound echoing throughout the first floor of the house, a pair of feet bolted down the hallway. Marissa skid to a halt and swiftly gazed up to see a man in beige dress pants and a black button up shirt paired with a white, plastic name tag. Thick, black hair covered the sides and top of his head, and a duo of a mustache and beard decorated his face. The sudden arrival of Marissa prompted his face to break into a wide smile, his arms extended outwards waiting for the inevitable contact. “Papi!” She exclaimed before taking a leap into his outstretched limbs. They then secured their grip on the young girl and pulled her in closer.

“Hi sweetheart.”

“Guess what papi!”

“What is it, my love?”

“Lance said he was bringing home a friend. And it’s Lotor! He says they’re not dating, but I want Lance to date him again. Lotor’s super nice.”

“Woah, woah. Slow down. What’s this about Lotor?”

“He’s the friend Lance brought home.”

“Is he really now?”

“Yeah. And Lance only brings home new friends if he _likes_ them.”

“Marissa! Let your father come to the kitchen. You can tell him about your day there.”

“Okay mami!” She called back down the hall before running back into the room at the end. Her father followed close behind.

Lance’s father walked up to the seat Lotor was occupying. He took the other man’s right hand in his and pulled him close into a hug, “It’s good to see you again, Lotor. I hope the kids haven’t caused you too much trouble. Lance especially.”

“Hey!” Lance protested.

“Don’t worry. Your son is the light of my life like always.” Lotor assured as he returned the friendly embrace.

The eldest of the two let out an amused chuckle, “Still as charming as always, aren’t you? No wonder my son likes you.”

“I’m right here, papi. You don’t have to talk like I’m not in the room.” Lance complained from his spot by the kitchen counter. His hands moved through the air and gestured to himself to emphasize his statement.

“I know, I know. How was your day Lance?” His father ruffled his short brown locks, before he moved to claim a chair for himself.

“Good. I made ropa vieja and frijoles negros and some rice to go with it. Don’t listen to David’s lies. He didn’t help.”

“Wow, Lance. Way to attack me. I think I need to go get a lawyer for all this slander.” David jokingly threatened.

“You deserve it, _huevon_.”

“Lance!” His mother scolded, pinching his ear.

“Ay! Mami, you know it’s true.” He swatted her hand away.

“It doesn’t matter. We have a guest. Go sit down.”

The brunet rolled his eyes and seated himself next to Lotor.

“So, Lotor, what brings you to town?” Mr. Fuentes asked, serving himself a plate of Lance’s cooking.

Lotor took hold of one piece of white porcelain, it was medium-sized and decorated on the edges with intricate floral patterns, “Lance and I have been talking for a while now, and I just thought it was time I came for a visit. You can’t talk to someone everyday and not want to come see them in person. Especially, someone as positive as Lance. That kind of attitude just brings a light to your life you can’t find elsewhere.”

And with those words, Lance could feel a strange, happy feeling bubble inside him. The praise beginning to take hold of his head, part of him wanted to earn more, yet the little voice in the back of his head screamed. Screamed that this was not real, that this was a lie, that Lotor would turn around and give him a new correction. It was his own fault anyway, he was not deserving of the praise in the first place, and Lotor just wanted him to be the best person he could be.

“Are you friends? Or is there something else going on?” His father questioned.

His thoughts stopped, redirecting to let alarms go off in his head. If there was one person he needed to not cause confusion with, it was his father.

“We’re not dating yet.”

For a brief moment, his turbulent thoughts calmed. It was as if he had just hit the eye of the storm, because the moment he caught on to the end of the sentence, everything began to pick up again. _Yet_. It repeated over and over in his head; yet, yet, yet, yet, yet.

“What a shame, I remember how badly Lance wanted you to come for Christmas when you were together. You fit in so well when you got here too.”

His dad probably thought they were going to get back together, that Lance had a thing, feelings, for Lotor. That Lance and Lotor agreed to something, and that they would date again soon. Was that what his father was expecting? Marissa wanted it. His mother wished it so, too. His dad probably did. His whole family adored Lotor, there was no way any of them would ever want Lance to live a life without him. It was less than a split second between the moment his thoughts began to spiral and an all too familiar, continuous repeating thud began to lose time between its intervals.

“I try.” Lotor joked.

Lance watched his father let out a small laugh, before he continued on with the conversation, his heart rate only persisting in picking up. He bit the handle of his spoon, as he remembered to listen to what was being said, “You were so good for him and—”

He cannot do this. He cannot do it. There is no way he can do this. Not right now. Not with Lotor right at the table, right next to him.

“And can we please talk about something else?” He interjected suddenly before he had a moment to contemplate the words that left his mouth. Then, he realized. Realized what he had done. He had interrupted the conversation, interrupted Lotor, the guest. His head was spinning, too many thoughts, as if his head was an internet browser with too many tabs open. Adrenaline-boosted instincts took over control of his body and swiftly, his face was turned away from Lotor.

“Lance?” His mother’s voice started to come through the cloud of thoughts running through his mind, yet, it was still pushed out as if it was insignificant. The table fell silent, but his breath stayed in his throat, catching every time he attempted to take a breath. The lack of noise was nothing but a pseudo-cure for the cursed way his brain worked.

Long fingers worked their way through the gaps in his own, and when the foreign hand was pressed palm against palm with his, a light squeeze attempted to calm the overactive nerves within him. He could hear the table begin to speak again, words directed at him, but nothing could stick. Despite the sounds that came from each person’s mouth, it was as if they had said nothing at all. He could not register a word.

All eyes were directed to his general direction, their focus on nothing but him. Every head turned in his direction was like another weight added to a backpack of endless worries that threatened to collapse on him.

Out. He had to get out.

His eyes darted desperately to the left, then to the right. It was as if the walls came closer to him every second, and the gazes became more intense. Every eye bore into his mind and soul, and he knew his heart was on his sleeve as his face probably betrayed him and broadcasted all his panic to the table. Dinner just started, and he already ruined the mood. Lotor had arrived not even an hour ago, and his father had only just gotten home, yet here he was, making everyone else miserable, because he was so out of control. He could not even let his own family and friend have a peaceful dinner. He just had to be whiny, annoying, a nuisance.

They wanted him to leave, let them have their meal in peace. He was just extra baggage. He needed to leave, and everyone was silently begging him to. Mind flying in a hundred directions at once, he felt bile rise in his throat and a familiar sickness take over his stomach. Then, his eyes locked onto the clear, large glass of the sliding backdoor by the head of the table.

That. That was how he’d get out. Gathering the quickly depleting energy in his system, he rose from his seat. Yet, less than a moment after the action, as if it was a chain reaction to his movement, a force from his right side pulled him back down.

His hand was still caught by Lotor.

With as much anxiety-produced adrenaline that was probably about to be mistaken for a boost of confidence that his body was exerting, he ripped his hand from the chains that was Lotor, and blurted out the first words he thought would release him from the room, “I’m not hungry.”

“Lance, we’re not doing this again. You’re not going back to skipping meals.” The voice of his father seemed so loud, came out so assertive. The tone of voice coupled with Lotor pulling his hand back into captivity once more had him suddenly gasping for air. Each breath caught in his throat, as if it had begun to swell shut, and every attempt came in shorter and shorter intervals.

“Papi, it’s not like that!” He practically shouted in his panic with the only air he could manage to spare.

“Lance, sit down.”

“No!” He yanked his hand free from the confines of Lotor’s handhold and bolted, forgoing his original plan of making it outside. His bare feet swiftly turned, carrying him into the hallway. He staggered through the living room and up the stairs. His arrival at the end of the hallway led to him turning the knob and jerked the door open so fast, the protruding metal collided with the neighboring wall with a loud _thud_.

Without a thought to even check the resulting damage of his impulsive and adrenaline-fueled actions, he stumbled up the staircase and practically flung himself onto his bed. The silence of the room may have been better, or it may have been worse. All he knew was that alone, in the confines of his room, the only thing he could bring himself to do was lie in a fetal position. With his knees to his chest, and his left side baring all his weight, his fingers gripped his shirt. His hand buried itself in the fabric before pulling it as far away as possible from his chest.

Then, it dawned on him. He was so hot. Sweating. Burning. Suffocating. The heat was engulfing him. He needed to cool down, to escape from the rising temperature within him. Anxiously swallowing, his brain switched completely over to autopilot. With his mind vaguely aware of his motions, he discarded the various articles of clothing covering his body, until he sat on his comforter in nothing but his light gray boxers.

Soon, as his body began to lose the excess heat it had created, his world stopped spinning and running at a hundred miles a minute. Slowly, everything began to fall back into place. His cheeks, as per usual after an episode of panic, were tainted with a salty wetness, his eyes disfigured with a puffiness to match.

Exhausted, as if the anxiety had zapped all the energy from him, which, it had proven it could do on way too many occasions, he allowed his bones to rest and fell back limply onto his bed. His comforter hugged his almost nude body, letting him focus on the eerie calmness of his room in contrast with his thoughts only moments before.

His family was downstairs, most likely celebrating the fact that he had removed his disgraceful presence from the room. While he laid in a silent room, with not even Blue, his own cat, for company, every other member in the house was two floors below him, happily spending the evening with Lotor.

Lotor. The same man who did so much to him, and so much for him. The man that always managed to send Lance into a confusion, where he could not even accept his own thoughts as true.

The man that Lance refused to tell his family any of the details about their relationship. And he liked it that way. There was no way that would slip out, no way that information would ever reach his family. No way he would ever let them know the other side of Lotor. The side that could come out so quickly and suddenly. The side that managed to send Lance’s college life crashing down in less than a year. The side that still left Lance apologizing over stupid small slip ups years later.

The side that did nothing but magnify his own self loathing for life.

No one noticed then, and no one noticed now. No one noticed the change in anxiety triggers, the change in his ability to focus, the change in the severity of his depression, or the change in his grades. No one noticed the decrease in weight, the increase in insomnia, the sudden end of his therapy visits, or the new marks that had begun to litter the length of his lower arms. No one noticed a thing until he was cooped up in a hospital and unable to be left alone anymore.

Though, to be fair, he just got a bit better at hiding the last thing on that list over the years.

But it was not abuse, because every word that spilled from his family’s mouths involving Lotor was in the highest regard. Always positive. Never an ill thought to be voiced. It was as if Lotor never did any wrong, to Lance or anyone ever. So, he must just be overreacting. He must have brought it all on himself. It was just a byproduct of his ever crumbling mental health, that was all.

Because his family would not love an abuser. And his family would not be encouraging him to rekindle whatever kind of love he had had with Lotor if he was as bad as he was making him out to be. If Lotor was that bad, someone besides Lance would have noticed.

Then again, Lance was the one who had made the decision to talk to Lotor again after cutting him out completely. It had been Lance who had invited Lotor to the house. It had been Lance who let Lotor come this close again. In that case, Lotor could not have been that bad, right? If he was as bad as he thought in this moment, he would not of hugged him when he arrived, would not have facetimed him every week, would not text him everyday, would not talk to him ever again.

But here he was, with Lotor in his house, with his family. While they all fawned over Lotor, letting the older man replace him, Lance was in his room. It was for the best. They could have Lotor, the type of son they really wanted. The son who finished college, who moved out, the son who went out there and made something of himself. Not Lance, the drop out, the failure, the actual atrocity of a child. Lotor was the son they wanted, not Lance.

So, it was for the best that Lotor sat downstairs with his family, and that he laid in his room, staring at the stars through the window above his head.

Alone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Some helpful notes:  
> \- Eating shit is a phrase that basically means "doing nothing"  
> \- huevon = Lazy Balls  
> \- Colchones = mattresses. But in this context Lance is basically using it in the way you could say "fudge" instead of "fuck". Since the words for mattresses and fuck in Spanish are a bit similar and rhyme.  
> \- Ropa vieja and papa rellenas are Cuban foods
> 
> Thank you for all your support with this story! It would also mean the world to me if you guys could come support me on my tumblr too!


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Never did he think insomnia, as pesky as it was, would leave him in this situation. It was only supposed to be a phone call.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I just want to give a heads up that this is going to be a very heavy chapter. So trigger warnings for self harm, suicidal thoughts, and abuse.
> 
> Otherwise, I hope everyone enjoyed season 3 just as much as I did! All the development was amazing!
> 
> Without another hold up, here's chapter 8!

The darkness of the room seemed to engulf both him and the platinum blonde on the other side of his bed. Everything was so still, so dead. The only evidence of life, the breathing from the body next to him and the digital clock illuminating one section of room a faint blue. 3:42 A.M.

This was not his first meeting with the asshole in his head who refused to let him rest his eyes, more or less his mind. He also knew it definitely would not be his last either. He wished he could complain about how his eyes burned and his mind went dizzy, but he had been in this position far too many times to count. It was just a normal part of life at this point. The amount of nights that he had spent just like this, alive as the night was dead, was ultimately pathetic.

His eyes focused on the clear view of the stars above his head. Everything in his room was blocked from his vision by the overwhelming lack of light, but it was only cloudy nights that his room was truly devoid of all light. Nights such as this one though, graced him with a clear, beautiful view of the stars. While the lightlife of the towns located further south was amazing, he was glad he lived away from New York City. If he had been closer, there was never a chance he would be able to see such a picture-perfect scene almost every night.

The space around his night stand was suddenly illuminated, and Lance took the blessed opportunity to kill his boredom as he had given up on getting any actual amount of sleep for the night. He yanked the white cord out of his phone and slipped it comfortably into his hands. He knew the hopes of anyone else laying in bed with no inkling that sleep would arrive any time soon was probably wasted, but life had crushed his hopes so often he was prepared for the disappointment. The backlight shined on his facial features, as he dismissed the Twitter notification. With his phone already in hand, he bounced from social media app to social media app, the slim hope that he would either lull himself into sleep or cure his insufferable boredom motivating him.

Abruptly, the arm hugging his thinly clothed waist shifted, and Lance’s world froze. Had he woken Lotor? He woke him. He definitely woke him. Lotor was going to wake up and unleash a verbal beatdown right then and there. Best case scenario, he spent the rest of the night on the couch. Worst case, Lance did not even want to think about that right now. The familiar tremor that was married to his anxiety seized his body, and their child who was named suffocation, gripped his throat. With his heart practically beating out of his chest, he noticed—

Lotor was still sound asleep.

For once, life was on his side.

The steady breathing against his back drug him back into reality, and he began to count to himself in at a nice, steady pace. Regulating, each inhale and exhale he internally applauded himself for his achievement once he felt functional again.

It had been several months since he had shared a bed with another person, a little under half a year with someone who was not a one night stand. And it was funny, absolutely hysterical how now, when receiving the same intimacy he had been craving, he felt so utterly _suffocated_.

Mindlessly, his thumbs tapped out his insomnia woes to Snapchat, venting through humor about his inability to put his mind to bed. With a second tap, he posted it to his story for the next twenty-four hours and tried to speed up the passage of time by living vicariously through his coworkers and friends via ten second videos. Barely moments after, when he quickly decided that he was disinterested in that too, he made one last check on who had seen his story before closing the app. The only name on the list stuck out, _Takashi Shirogane_.

Of course Shiro was awake too.

He switched screens over into his text messages and typed a message he already knew the answer to to the man in question.

 

Shiro The Hero  
  
You up?  
  
When am I not? Sleep is like my kryptonite. Everything okay?  
  
Not really… Can I call you?  
  
Sure. Need me to come over?  
  
No. Call is fine. I just need to get stuff off my chest.  
  
Alright. Just call me when you’re ready.  


Stealthily pulling himself out of Lotor’s limp hold, excessively careful to not disturb the man’s slumber, he slipped out of the comforter’s warmth and gently pressed his bare feet onto the frigid wooden floor. The sudden change in temperature came as a shock to his system, and he fought his instincts to ungracefully jump onto his carpet in the middle of the room. Letting his nerves take control above his comfort, he stepped down the stairs and silently slipped into the bathroom he shared with his siblings. The pad of his thumb tapped on Shiro’s contact information stored in his phone.

When the dial tone sounded, he pressed the screen to the side of his face.

“Late night?”

“Yeah…”

“What’s on your mind?”

“Nothing really? I don’t know. I just can’t sleep.”

“Depression?”

“I don’t know, maybe.”

“Everything okay?”

“Not really…”

“Then talk to me about that.”

“I have no idea where to even start.”

“Well, how do you feel? Sad? Anxious?”

“I’m not really sure how I feel… I’m really confused?”

“About anything in particular?”

He sat down on the rim of the white, porcelain tub and let himself go over the question in his head. What _was_ he even confused about? Everything was just so convoluted, so muddled. Right could be left, left could be right, and Lance would not of even questioned the new information. He would just let it happen and find someone to tell him the answer. He was probably wrong anyway.

It was like he was like he was back in college.

Yet, he knew he needed an answer for Shiro. Something real. Something that was an actual question and not just a collection of words he had managed to string together in a pitiful attempt at keeping the conversation going.

What came out was not something he expected himself to admit, “How do you know if you’re dating someone? Like, unofficially.”

“What do you mean?”

“Well, there’s this guy I’ve been kinda sorta talking with a lot… And I don’t know, everyone seems to love him. They all want me to date him, but I don’t really want to. But he really wants to I think? Or maybe I’m full of myself? I’m probably full of myself. This was stupid. I’m stupid.”

“No, it isn’t and neither are you. Your feelings are important.”

“Then why does my family love someone who hurt me?!”

“Woah, woah, woah. Lance, what is this really about?”

He sniffed before answering the voice coming through the receiver, “Can you keep a secret Shiro? A really big one.”

“Of course Lance.”

“Remember Lotor, my ex-boyfriend I told you about when we became friends? The one I had just broken up with at the time.”

“What about him?”

“When we dated he… I don’t know, he really messed me up. When I’m around him, I feel like I can’t even trust myself. I don’t even know how I feel right now, all I can say is confused, because I am. And I feel like I need to ask before I do literally anything.  He always knows what to do, and what if I do something wrong? He’s going to tell me how stupid I was for it. But, nothing he does ever goes wrong, so maybe he really is just trying to look out for me? He also, he also has this side to him, when he gets really angry and stuff. Like, once we got in an arguement, and he grabbed my wrist and threatened to break it. He also hated me talking to anyone but him… But my whole family loves him. They were all so excited to see him again. So, maybe I’m just blowing this all out of proportion, and it wasn’t that bad? Or I’m just looking for a reason to be bitter? The therapist from high school said I project my self hate onto others and paint them out to be assholes right? I’m probably doing that now, and Lotor is actually a good guy.”

For a moment, only silence came from the other end.

Fuck, Lance had probably scared him off with his annoying babbling. He should have said nothing at all. Just kept it to himself. That was where it belonged anyway. No one wanted to hear it, especially Shiro. He had all his own problems. He did not need Lance’s too. He was selfish, unloading all his problems on his friend that was also up this late. He had not even bothered to ask Shiro how he was. He was the most disgusting and pathetic excuse for a friend. He should just hang up. Do it before Shiro did. The rejection would at least sting a little less that way.

Who was he kidding? He deserved that pain.

After the silence seemed to begin to take over the conversation, a voice sounded through the receiver again, “Did you get it all out?”

“Yeah…” He forced out.

“Alright. Lance, thank you for telling me all of this. It means a lot that you trust me.”

“You’re one of my best friends… of course I trust you. It’s just… this is just hard to talk about for me.”

“And that’s okay. Know I’m here for you whenever you want to talk though.”

“Thank you, Shiro.”

“Anytime Lance. Do you still want to talk about anything?”

“I don’t know. I’m just really confused… kinda sad?”

“Go on.”

“It’s just… why am I such a fuck up? I mess up everything, and all my relationships fall apart. Everyone leaves. And it’s because I chase them all off… I chased off Keith with my attitude, and Plaxum left because I’m pathetic. Then Lotor, I was crazy enough to dump him. The one person who didn’t leave me, and I dumped him. Maybe Lotor is the person who I’m actually supposed to be with…”

“What about the guy you’re seeing now?”

“Can I tell you another secret?”

“Of course.”

“It’s Lotor.”

“Oh, Lance…”

“I know, going back to an ex. I’m pathetic.”

“Lance, it’s not that.”

“Then what?”

“You deserve better. You’re worth more than someone who makes you feel so badly about yourself.”

“I’m just being too sensitive. Everyone else loves him.”

“That’s not true, Lance. If it hurts you, it hurts you. It doesn’t matter.”

“My whole family wants us to get back together though. I’m just being a little bitch.”

“But do _you_ want to get back with him Lance? What do you want?”

“I don’t know. Maybe?”

“Tell me why.”

“I guess, I’m complaining too much about him? Sometimes he’s really nice, and he calls me when I’m upset, he gives me compliments and nicknames, he drove out here to see me, and he corrects me when I fuck up. Everyone liked me so much when I was with him, so the corrections were really helping. I was fucking up less and being a better boyfriend, and I guess, I lost that all when I dated Plaxum, because she left me. So, I need Lotor to give me some more tough love, so I can be good again.”

“Can I ask you another question?”

“Yeah.”

“How do you feel when you reminisce about your relationship with him?”

“I don’t know… it’s kinda cloudy.”

“Well, is it a good feeling or a bad feeling?”

“Bad…”

“Any reason?”

“He just makes me feel bad. But I know it’s because he’s giving me suggestions, and I just take it too hard. That’s all.”

“A relationship shouldn’t make you feel bad Lance.”

“It’s not really a big deal.”

“Yes, it is. Your happiness matters too. Why would you want to date someone who makes you feel bad about yourself?”

“Because I need it. I’m the fuck up. The loser. The drop out. I’m pathetic, and no one wants me. He’s the only one who didn’t break up with me in my whole life. He wants to be with a disgusting person like me, and I should just take the opportunity and accept that he’s all I deserve. Accept that I’m never going to amount to anything. Accept that I’m the family disappointment, and that everyone has more potential than me. Everyone hates me, and I make them all look bad. So, at least I can just marry rich and pretend I’m okay. I just make everyone’s lives hard with my head shit anyway, and the best thing I ever did was trying to kill myself, and I should just try it again and again until I’m fucking dead, because that’s the only way anyone around me will ever be happy!” His voice ended in a mix of panicked breathing and ugly, broken sounds he did not think he could ever replicate on cue. Gross, uncontrolled sobbing took control of his side of the conversation as his body was entirely seized by violent shaking, his phone magically managing to remain in his slacking grip. Hot liquid soaked his cheeks, and his blue eyes darted around the room, looking for, praying for something he could use to temporarily take away the suffocating pain that was clawing mercilessly at his body.

The world spun, choking the life out of him, pressing down on his windpipe and attacking him from every angle. His only way free? Find something, anything that could open his skin and release it out of his cursed, wretched, disgusting, pathetic excuse for a body. He needed to see red. He would not be okay again until he saw that bright, unattractive color spilling from his thighs.

Before he knew it, he had ripped the shower curtain from two of the rings with the force of his panicked movements. The plastic hung to the side, and Lance found his hands diving for his sister’s razor. The boxcutter was upstairs. Upstairs with Lotor, who was sleeping soundly and would unleash hell if he was awoken. But his sister would not miss one razor, right? He would just buy her another. Nimble fingers played with the pink plastic surrounding the sharp metal blades until his fingers bled, and he forfeited the challenge.

Again, he swiped the bathroom. Yet, when there was nothing in his line of sight that was to his mental illness’ liking, he resorted to digging his nails into the side of his lower arm. And he was ready, ready to grab his toothbrush and shove it down his throat. It was not blood, but it was something. Something to hurt himself with.

When his arm extended to grab the new weapon of destruction, he noticed the phone on the counter, reading ‘Shiro The Hero’ on the top of the screen with the numbers below increasing with every second.

Shiro was still on the phone. Trying to talk to him.

He took the object into his hand after several attempts and switched the call to speaker, letting Shiro in on the complete and utter chaos that was his emotional state, “Shiro?”

“Lance? Lance! Thank God! Oh my God, are you okay?! What happened?! What did you do?” Shortened breaths laced Shiro’s words as they came through the speaker.

“Nothing! I did nothing!” Part of him was ashamed, disgusted by his ability to yell at Shiro, especially when he was obviously anxious as well too.

“Lance, please. Let’s talk about this okay?” Shiro said, almost pleading his friend to take a breather from his current irrational mindset.

“I don’t want to!”

“Lance!”

“No! I don’t deserve anything!”

“Lance! Lance, tell me two things you can see.”

“A sink I can bash my head on.”

“Lance, I need you to listen to me. Just give me one minute. Then you can yell again.”

“I don’t want to listen.”

“Lance, think about your family.”

“You mean how I disappoint all of them?”

“Then let’s think about your friends.”

“And how I basically use them and never give back?”

“Lance, you know that’s not true.”

“But it is!” He snapped, “When have I ever given as much as you all give to me?!”

“When you talked me out of taking my life! I wouldn’t be here if it wasn’t for you!” When Shiro’s emotion-laced response was met with nothing but silence, he continued, “You’re the one who talked to me when I wanted to end it all. You related to my feelings in the moment and convinced me not only to calm down, but you gave me the recommendation of admitting myself to a hospital. You helped me find a good hospital to stay at, and came to visit me everyday. People who only use their friends don’t go through that kind of effort.”

“But—”

Shiro refused to let him finish his sentence, “And Katie, who drove all the way up to her college to take her home for fall break when Matt couldn’t get off work and her mom couldn’t get out of bed?”

“Me…” he said softly.

“And who drives to drop off lunch for Hunk at his job every time he’s forgotten to pack it? No matter what hours he’ll have to work to compensate for it later.”

“Me…” he forced out as his temper calmed, but his tears remained, “I’m sorry, I’m sorry Shiro, I’m sorry. I just…”

“Lance, it’s okay.”

The silver handle to the bathroom door began to turn, and Lance realized.

He had forgotten to lock it.

The metal continued to move, until the door swung open, and Lance’s heart was once again beating so hard, he was sure it was going to explode. The moving wood revealed a tall, platinum blonde figure clad in nothing but a pair of plaid boxers. Fresh from sleep, the look on his face able to instil fear without a word to match.

He was going to die. He was going to die, and his last words were a sobbing string of pathetic and worthless complaints to Shiro.

Of course it would end like this. Lance cornered in a bathroom, utterly vulnerable to and at the complete mercy of Lotor’s hand.

“What the fuck are you doing?”

“Nothing.” As the words came out, he quickly placed his phone face down on the side of the sink, strategically keeping Shiro on the line.

“Nothing? That doesn’t look like nothing. You know what it looks like to me?” The man in front of him took a step forward and began to raise his voice, “It looks like a whole lot of bull shit!”

“Lotor stop it. It’s the middle of the night. You’ll wake everyone up.” Lance protested to no avail.

“So what? It won’t be my fault. It’ll all be, because you’re being irresponsible.”

“ _I’m_ irresponsible? You’re the one who’s in here yelling at four a.m. with my whole family asleep on this same floor.” The short, quickening breaths began to take over his lungs once more.

“Yes, you are irresponsible. Look at you. Crying in the bathroom. _Pathetic_.” The last word rolled off Lotor’s tongue like venom. Though, that was the kind of person Lotor was. Luring you in with kind and affectionate words and building you up with each one. Then, when he felt you were out of the petite box he considered acceptable for those around him, he cut you down, sliced through you, the thing he had just built so delicately, so fragilely, every carefully crafted word cutting deeper. Whenever you began to feel as if you could rise above him, take him on, he knocked you down as brutally as he felt necessary and then some. And when confronted? He released new words, loving words, until you were consumed with the feelings he decided you would feel. He had you desperate for his praise, his happiness, because you knew he could take everything in one moment. Only he could make you feel good, make you happy. It was a cycle of kind words, then spitting venom, over and over and over and over and over.

And Lance knew he was caught.

“You really want to challenge me on this? You want to act like I’m not in my right mind? I think you should really take a look at yourself Lance.” Lotor’s tone made his heart want to give out and beat a million times a minute all at once. The tall man crossed the room menacingly, locking the door with his movement. Slowly, he bent his back, his face lowering and invading Lance’s personal bubble. His breath disgustingly coated Lance’s skin as he spoke, “I could call your family in here right now. Convince them of how _unstable_ you are. Of how you talk about suicide to me all the time. They’d send you back to that hospital to rot.”

“No!” He choked out, hot tears cascading down his cheeks faster than before.

“Then you might want to think about listening to me, Lance. It could turn out catastrophic for you otherwise.” The only response received was a small, submissive nod, “Good. Now, be a good pet and tell me who you were talking with.”

“N-No one.” He squeaked out, lying to the very man who had just threatened everything he had worked so hard for in the last few years.

“Liar.” Lotor spat. Straightening his posture, he threw his arm over to the side of the sink to make a grab at the iPhone on its side.

The phone that still had Shiro on the line.

He slapped it off its resting place, watching it crash to the tile floor.

Well, his screen had probably cracked on impact, but he could fix that later.

Or not. Because the way Lotor’s head turned to him, the way his purple eyes bore into him like lasers slicing his skin, told him he would not be around much longer.

“What the fuck are you hiding from me you worthless, replaceable piece of shit?!” The older man shouted, so loud the house may have shook beneath his feet.

Ducking under Lotor, Lance snatched the phone. With his back to the floor, he clutched the object to his chest, crossing his arms for protection.

So much for being casual about the fact that he had left Shiro to eavesdrop on their conversation.

Frantically, he repeatedly pressed his finger to the “end call” button. When he had shoved Shiro’s ears from the room, he slammed his thumb down on the button to the side, locking his phone.

Then, without warning, Lotor was on the ground with him. The bigger man’s body weight held him against the tile as two knees intentionally pushed themselves down on his thighs. One hand planted itself on the floor above his left shoulder, the other went to work attempting to seize the prized object from Lance. Rough grabs at Lance’s arm prison protecting his phone soon turned into clawing violently at Lance’s skin, leaving long angry marks down the length of his forearms. Then, when the smaller of the two continued to be stubborn, he took Lance’s left wrist into his hand and squeezed as if he was releasing all his anger. With sudden force, he aggressively yanked Lance’s arm away from its partner, exposing the hand cradling the phone.

Lotor snatched the phone and took it as his own. He leaned back, releasing Lance’s wrist but keeping the young man’s legs married to the tile with pressure from his knees. As he brought the object closer to his face, the screen came to life, and Lance watched as his ex-lover was met with the number pad to unlock it. Purple eyes darted towards his frame, “What’s the passcode?”

“I’m not telling you.” Lotor may have pinned him down, but he still had a lot of fight left.

“ _Lance._ ” The name almost came out as a growl.

“You’re not my boyfriend. I told you we’re not dating. So, no. You can’t have my fucking passcode, you obnoxious asshole.” The words were out of his mouth before they had even reached his brain. He processed what he had just heard his mouth say, and oh yeah, he was going to get hit for that one. Bad decision.

An intense _slap_ rang throughout the small room, and a sharp sting took over the feeling on his left cheek. Left to process the event on his own, Lotor’s voice came into Lance’s hearing.

“Last chance.”

He shook his head at the man above him.

“Fine.” Lotor’s hand darted for Lance’s wrist. Gripping it once again, his other hand worked its way to where Lance’s thumb hid in his fingers. The older man’s fingers fought Lance’s as Lotor began to pry apart his fist. All his energy, all his concentration, was focused on that one action; keeping his thumb tucked away within the chamber of his fist. As long as his thumb stayed locked away, so did his call history on his phone.

And, right now, that information getting out could very possibly affect his safety.

Looking up at the man leaning over him, the face above him twisted into an expression of anger and determination. He began to utilize his free arm to push against Lotor’s chest. When the other man did not move an inch, he went for the face. Thrusting the base of his palm into the platinum blonde's cheek, he shoved the obnoxious face away, earning another slap to the already forming welt on the side of his own face.

“Get off me, Lotor!”

No response, just the feeling of long digits scratching and grabbing for his index finger. Fighting Lotor’s meddlesome fingers, his first appendage was ripped from the rest of his fist and pushed to the side harshly. He released the whole thing with only one feeling radiating from his joint.

Sharp pain.

It took over and overwhelmed his system. His body curled to the side, and he left every finger open and exposed. Through the immediate haze, he felt a firm surface press against the pad of his thumb, and when his brain focused back in on the scene at hand, he noticed the other man in the room swiping through the contents of his phone.

“Who the fuck have you even been talking to? I’m cleaning this out.”

“What?! No!” He sprung upright, cradling his injured appendage in his other hand. He reached for the phone, only to earn a solid shove to his chest.

“You want to know why you always feel like shit Lance? It’s because of this. You talk to all these people, and you _crave_ all the attention and validation from them. You need to separate yourself from all of this. Learn to be alone.”

“Lotor! Stop it! It’s mine!”

“But don’t you want to feel better, Lance? Or I guess not. You want to be miserable. You _like_ being miserable. How sick.”

“That’s—No—That’s not—”

“Save it, Lance. Let’s face it. You like being used.”

“No!”

“Then why do you insist on self-sabotaging? I’m trying to help you Angel Eyes.” Lotor’s voice changed tone for his second sentence, and a disgusting sweetness coated the last two words. Long fingers snaked around his face, and the other man’s thumb stroked his cheek, “I just want what’s best for you. Don’t you trust me?”

He wanted to crawl out of his skin.

But, he desperately wanted to be able to believe him, wanted to believe he really cared.

And maybe Lotor really did.

The purple irises gazing down at him softened as the thumb caressing his cheek worked magic. Those stupid lips curled upwards, and the information-altered phone was deposited on his chest as Lotor’s other hand brushed his hair out of his face. Puckered lips made contact with his forehead before Lotor was back to staring at his minorly battered face. Long platinum blonde hair rested on Lance’s shoulders, and the room fell silent for a moment before Lotor opened his mouth, “So pretty.”

Cautiously, he reached up to Lotor’s hand curled carefully around his face. Maybe he had meant to push it away, maybe he had meant to bring it closer. All he knew was the moment his hand had made it there, it stayed. His palm was glued to the back of Lotor’s hand, and he found himself lying on the cold, tile floor, his whole body, his whole being, itching for another word, another praise from the man above him.

“I’m sorry I was so forceful. It won’t happen again baby boy, I promise.” When he gave no verbal response, Lotor continued, “You’ll be happier now without those people, I’ll be all the affection you need. Trust me, have I ever been wrong?”

Lance shook his head.

“See? I know what I’m doing. Want me to carry you back to bed Angel Eyes?”

A small, shy nod was the only action Lance could give before he was suddenly off the floor and in the air. Within moments, Lotor was carrying him up the stairs to the attic bedroom, and he was deposited onto the mattress. The other man snuck in behind him and wrapped his arms around his waist, his mouth resting by Lance’s ear.

“I’m not stupid, Lance.”

“What?” His chest tightened again as Lotor’s sudden tone change spilled into his ear, and suddenly, he was painfully aware of the prison of the bigger man’s arms spooning him.

“Next time you want to trash talk me you might want to be quiet.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've had people tell me they want to kick Lotor. Don't worry guys, I want to kick him too.


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lance could handle this all himself. He did not need his family, especially his little brother, trying to intervene.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm back again with another weakly update! I hope everyone's week went well!
> 
> Trigger warnings for mentioned disordered eating, self harm, abuse, and manipulation.

Unknown Number  
  
So why did I wake up at 4:30 am this morning to my brother having a full blown panic attack?  
  
Lance?  
  
Don’t ignore me Lance.  
  
Lance Fuentes. If you don’t answer me I’m going to your house.  
  


Blue eyes glanced up and over to the left, falling on Lotor’s sleeping face. He reached down to his pocket to check the persistent vibrations on the side of his thigh, careful to maneuver around the arm holding him securely to the older man’s frame. Once his fingers managed to dig out the electronic, he brought it to his face, went over the messages, then tapped out a response with his good hand.

Unknown Number  
  
Who's this? I lost my numbers.  
  
It's Keith  
  


He created a contact and slowly typed out another response with one thumb.

Keith Gyeong  
  
Added you back. Is Shiro alright?  
  
Yeah. He’s okay now. I made him some hot chocolate, and Pidge is distracting him while Matt ran to the store.  
  
Thank God. Tell him I’m sorry.  
  
I will later. But what were you two even talking about that freaked him out?  
  
We were talking, and I have a friend staying over and woke him up talking too loud, so he came in and we got in a bit of a fight that’s all. I’m good.  
  
Lance, he said you got threatened.  
  
Look, it’s fine alright. I’m okay.  
  
Everyone would feel better if I checked on you in person, okay? I’m heading over in a few minutes.  
  
No no no no no no  
  
Not right now  
  
Why not?  
  
The friend I have over is very… specific. He’d be upset if I had people over while he was here.  
  
I haven’t seen him in a really long time.  
  
Even if I only stopped by for a few minutes?  
  
Seeing that you’re my ex boyfriend, yes. Especially yes.  
  
I see. So your “friend” would be jealous.  
  
Stop it. It’s complicated alright? Just leave it alone Keith.  
  
Fine. But I’m still coming to check on you. What time is your “friend” gone?  
  
Okay. First - Stop putting friend in quotes. I’m not dating him. Second - No you’re not.  
  
What friend gets THAT jealous over you having other people you talk to? I was your BOYFRIEND and I was fine with you talking to other people.  
  
Leave  
  
It  
  
Alone  
  
I don’t want to talk to you about this.  
  
Fine. But can I please come over for a bit Lance? It would make Shiro feel a lot better too.  
  
For Shiro. My friend leaves in about an hour or two. You can come then.  
  
Alright. I’ll be over in a bit.  
  
Gtg. If he wakes up to me texting he’s going to be upset.  
  
Try to take care of yourself.  
  


Cautiously, he slipped the object back into his jean pocket and let the body pressed against his stir into consciousness.

Resting his head once more on the open shoulder next to him, he watched the blonde head of hair rise slowly from the couch cushion below them.

“Morning.”

Lotor’s hand reached out and brushed long fingers through his brown locks. Tired purple eyes focused in on him, and finally, the man’s mouth opened, “Such a good pet, right here when I wake up.”

One comment, and the exhaustion seemed to bubble away, replaced with the same sickening pride he was trained to crave. The same pride that took over every time one of Lotor’s compliments came out. The same pride that he _needed_ so desperately every time that same confident walk brought a familiar, dreaded aura into his surroundings.

It was gross.

But praise meant attention. Praise meant affection. It meant love, gifts, and safety. It meant another few minutes where Lotor's attitude would not flip into rage and violence. Another few minutes where Lotor would not be trying to tear him down physically and mentally. A few more minutes where everything was okay.

Maybe it was not as bad as he made it out to be in his head.

“So good for me. All you have to do is listen like this, and I’ll love you forever. I promise.”

The words repeated in his head, _I’ll love you_ . _Love you_.

_Love_.

The word falling from the same lips that had called him pathetic not long ago made his stomach twist in disgust.

Okay, that needed to be addressed.

“Lotor, no. We’re not dating. I don’t like you like that.” He took Lotor’s hand off his head and placed it on the taller man’s chest.

“Come on Lance. You’ve been on my arm all weekend.”

“Yeah, so what? You’re the one who couldn’t accept sleeping in the guest room. You wouldn’t shut up, until I said you could sleep in my room.”

“I just want to spend as much time with you as possible. I’m not going to be able to see you like this again for a while. I’ll miss you.”

“Lotor, just stop.”

“Do you not want to spend time with me Lance? I’ll get up and leave if that’s the case.”

“What?! No, I–”

“Always like this, aren’t you?”

“Wha–”

“Always so ungrateful for everything other people do for you. You just use people, don’t you? No wonder you’re miserable. You use everyone then toss them aside when you’re done. That’s why no one is ever around. And the ones who are hate being there. You’re a _disgusting_ person Lance.”

Short breaths took over everything that tried to escape his mouth. Every word, every sound, it was all replaced by his frightening inability to get a complete lung full of air. It was as if Lotor had two invisible hands, each one wrapping around his throat and squeezing the life from him. With no defense from the unseen attack, all he could do was look at him with panicked blue eyes, and internally beg himself to be able to speak.

Shaking his head furiously, he forced out his next sentence, “No! I didn’t mean to!”

“Of course you didn’t.” Lotor replied mockingly.

“No! I’m serious!”

The blonde man gave no response.

“Lotor…”

Nothing.

“Lotor, please.”

“People like you aren’t worth my time.” Lotor spat.

Shaking hands grabbed at Lotor’s arm, silently begging to gain his good graces once more. But when the man in question refused to exert any energy for him, it was as if receiving Lotor’s attention became a matter of life or death. His chest squeezed in on itself, as if it was trying to send his lungs out of his throat, and the horrid shaking that had taken over his hands seized his entire body. Each short breath only made the next one harder, leaving him helpless to the way the world began to blur.

A new voice entered the equation.

“Lotor, what the fuck are you doing?! Help him!” A hand took his shoulder, and another one took his face. The world continued to move too fast, but the voice spoke again, “Lance, look at me. It’s going to be okay.” The voice then turned away from him and spoke with a tone consisting of an extra hint of distaste, “Lotor, I think it’s best if you leave the room for a bit.”

The weight on the couch shifted, and a pair of feet padded out of the room. A few muffled words were uttered before the sounds were lost in the chaotic haze that was Lance’s mind.

“Lance, do you need me to count with you?” The weight on the couch shifted again, and David was sitting in front of him, “Put your hand on your stomach. I’m going to count, and you’re just going to focus on syncing up your breathing with me okay?” When he nodded, David continued, “Breathe in, one, two, three, four. Out, one, two, three, four. And in, one, two, three, four. Out, one, two, three, four.”

He listened to the soothing repetition of his little brother’s voice, eyes focused in on the rhythmic rise and fall of his abdomen. After a half hour passed, his brain still raced, but his body had begun to relax, or maybe it was only actually a few minutes. Time always became augmented whenever his mind spun out of control in that manner. David’s hand took his own and gave it a comforting squeeze, “Want to talk about something to get your mind off everything?”

He nodded.

“Remember when you first starting bringing Allura over? You two were watching Grey’s Anatomy and freaking out over God knows what, something about a girl being pregnant—”

“Meredith.”

“Yeah, yeah, whatever. But you guys were literally screaming over this show. Anyway, while you guys were flipping out about that girl, mami came in the room trying to offer you guys some snacks, and she called Allura your girlfriend, and then started going on about how glad she was to see you dating again after Lotor. Both of you were like, what, and when mami kept talking, Allura just says, ‘No thank you, I’m gay.’. Was she rejecting you? Denying she’s with you? We’ll never know, but either way it was funny as hell. Lance, next time a girl hits on you and you’re not interested you should just say ‘no thank you, I’m gay’.”

“David if any girl hit on me, I’d be flattered. Women are goddesses.”

The younger of the two snorted, “What about guys?”

“Men? Men are statues chiseled by the hand of God.”

“I don’t think Sofia will agree with you.” David laughed.

“Yeah, well Sofia’s gay. She’ll agree that women are more than you could ever hope for.”

“Do you think she has a girlfriend yet?”

“I don’t know, she’s been busy with her job. But she’s always wanted a family, so maybe? At least we know Luis is already starting one.”

“Excited to be an uncle?”

“My reason for living.”

A few moments of silence fell between them before David spoke again, “Feeling better?”

He nodded, then laid his body back onto the couch, his head landing in his brother’s lap.

“Then can we talk about something?”

“Yeah, sure. What’s up?”

David turned his head to the left, then to the right, then finally, his statement left his mouth, “Why are you still talking to Lotor?”

“What do you mean? I’m friends with all my exes, well, except Keith.”

“No, no, no. Not like that. Look, Plaxum was actually a good girlfriend, you guys just had differences. But Lotor, Lance he’s abusive.”

“No.”

“What do you mean ‘no’? Lance, have you thought about how he talks to you?”

“David, look, it’s fine.”

“No. It’s not fine. Lotor, he’s… he’s… there’s no way I can put this in english the same way, Lance, Lotor es un _batido de clavos_. He’s a bad man.”

“David, I’m fine. I can handle my own relationships.”

“But, clearly you can’t, because you’re ignoring Keith for hurting you with the break up five years ago, but here you are talking to Lotor, a man who calls you horrible things and purposely makes you anxious.”

“I’m an adult. I can talk to whoever I want.”

“Lance! Just listen to me for five minutes, okay?!” David took a small pause, then continued, “I heard you and Lotor fighting in the bathroom last night. He’s trying to cut you off from your friends Lance. That’s not normal. Lotor wants to control you. Hunk, Katie, Shiro, Matt, Allura, Coran, he doesn’t want you to have any of them in your life. And I know you’re smart enough to see that Lance, so is it something else? Why do you want to be around him?”

“It’s complicated. You wouldn’t get it.”

“But I _want_ to get it. I want to understand.” The younger of the two reached into his pocket and pulled out his phone. Quickly, he scrolled through his photos and showed a certain one in particular to his brother. The family was sitting nicely on the living room couch together. It was Christmas Eve, far into the night, and his mother had wanted a photo of all her children to keep with her, since she was very slowly becoming an empty nester. Sofia, and her girlfriend at the time sat together on the left, girlfriend on the armrest and Sofia on the edge of the leftmost cushion. Next to her sat David, then Marissa. To the far right sat Luis and his now wife, her arm hooked with his. And lastly, between Marissa and Luis’s wife, Lotor had taken his place with Lance on his lap. Lotor’s arms were wrapped around his waist and Lotor’s chin rested upon his shoulder, “Remember this photo?”

“Yeah, what about it?”

“I want you to look at yourself closely. Then think about how you felt back then.”

“David—”

“No Lance. You have to do this.”

With a roll of his eyes, he took the phone into his hands and studied it. Immersing himself in the memories that followed. He pinched his fingers onto the screen, then separated them until the entire screen was just the section of the photo with him and Lotor. His bright blue eyes looked dull and dead, unable to show the same characteristic life that shone especially bright around his family. Dark marks decorated the skin under his eyes, reminders of the sleepless nights that he had gone through, and the ones yet to come. His whole body lacked the muscles he had built up from varsity sports in high school, replaced by a tired look and tired body always searching for new energy. But, the icing on the cake, the thing that completed the look, was the black and blue that painted his right arm in the shape of a hand. A similar mark had found residence on his face at the time, but his older sister’s homeschool cosmetology courses during Lance’s teenage years had found a use. With the right foundation and coverup, it was as if it did not exist.

David was right, he was not looking his best.

Okay, that was an understatement. He looked like complete shit.

His fingers came up to touch the spot the offending memory reminded him of. For a moment, it was as if the spot on his cheek was just as swollen as it had been years ago, as if the whole scenario was out of something that happened a few years back. It was just like that holiday break anyway, Lotor staying at the house, his family loving him more than their own son, and finding himself constantly messing up in Lotor’s eyes.

And then it hit him.

The crushing feeling of hopelessness consumed him. It was as if the personified version of worthlessness had just kicked him in the gut and left him to suffer. Quickly, he tossed the phone back to his brother, “I can’t, I can’t do it.”

“Shh, it’s okay. I just want you to remember how you were back then. You were underweight, you barely ate the whole time you were home, you weren’t sleeping, and I remember you coming out from every shower with your skin all burned and your arms would be wrapped in bandages under your sleeves. And then you had random bruises that you made crappy excuses for. Lance, you weren’t doing well at all. I was _scared_. And then… and then you went to the hospital for a while… I was terrified I wouldn’t see you again.”

“Yeah, but I’m better now, so it’s okay.”

“Lance—”

“I went to the hospital. I did the group therapy bull shit. I take all the medicines they gave me. I’m not going to get any better than this.”

“What if the medicine isn’t working like it should?! And the things Lotor tells you aren’t going to help!”

“David, you just don’t understand.”

“I don’t understand what? That you’re spending time with the ex who treated you horribly? Or that you almost died, and that I could have been sitting here alone right now?” David’s voice broke during the second half of his last sentence.

“You don’t have to worry anymore. I’m fine.”

“You won’t be if you continue to spend time with Lotor. I heard your whole conversation last night with him. Lance, he doesn’t love you. He says horrible things to you. You know who did love you? Plaxum and Keith. I don’t care how much mami and papi love Lotor, I will never like him. You deserve better.”

“I don’t want to talk about this anymore.” His hands began to tremble once more.“Lance—”

“No.” He got up from the couch, “It’s not like Lotor and I are dating anyway, so there’s nothing wrong. I’m allowed to have friends.”

“Yeah, friends like Hunk and Shiro. Not _him_.” The last word came out with a particular tone of disgust.

“Look, I have to help Lotor load his car. And no. We can’t talk about this later.” Swiftly, he retreated into the next room where Lotor was waiting. The older man was chatting it up with his mother, the same charming smile that he introduced himself to Lance with, plastered on his face. He rested his weight on his forearms, pressed firmly against the kitchen counter. His long hair fell against his shoulders and glided down his back as the words that eloquently poured from his lips won over his mother’s heart once again. Finally, after idling under the doorframe that lead to the kitchen for several minutes, he decided to speak again, “Hey, Lotor. Let’s go get your things."

“It was lovely talking with you, Mrs. Fuentes.” Lotor graced Lance’s mother with a smile. Gently, he took her hand into his, and placed a kiss on her knuckles. He passed Lance and departed the room.

“Vale la pena quedarse con el.” She commented, giggling innocently over Lotor’s actions.

“Mami.” Lance whined. He wished he could feel validation and approval from his mother’s statement. Instead, the only emotion that crawled inside him was an intense, uncomfortable repulsion. It seeped through his skin and into his bones, unable to leave, just like him with Lotor.

Hilariously ironic.

Lotor’s double-edged sing song voice carried through the first floor of the house, “Lance, I’m by the front door.” Innocent on the surface, but lethal underneath.

“Yeah, be right there!” He called to him before doing a one eighty and purposefully making his way over to the area in question. Carefully, with his good hand, he took hold of Lotor’s olympic blue duffle bag. It was scraped up on the bottom and worn down on the edges, uncharacteristic of the wealthy man. While every other aspect of the blonde was concerned with upholding his image, the bag of choice for the trip was just old. Maybe it was a sign of comfort, or maybe it was a reflection of how he saw Lance. Either way, he popped on his shoes, and slid the two handles into the crook of his arm before turning the knob on the wooden door. Using his foot to prop it open, he let Lotor pass, then followed him into the January cold.

Lotor slipped his long fingers around the handles of the bag and unlocked the white i8 BMW parked neatly in the driveway. Leisurely, the doors lifted up, revealing the passenger seat. He casually tossed the bag into the seat behind it and turned to Lance, “I’ll come back for you Angel Eyes.”

“How could you live without me?” The blue-eyed man teased, hands rubbing at his exposed arms to shield them from the bitter, cold air.

“I couldn’t.” Lotor smiled and pulled the younger man into his embrace.Then, Lotor’s face leaned in too close, and a pair of lips matched up with his. They gently moved against his own and Lance let himself lean against the car conveniently to his left. For a split second, he fell victim to Lotor’s charms, moving his own lips against the other man’s and allowing his eyes to slide shut.

No. This was not okay.

Lance firmly placed the palms of his hands against Lotor’s chest and pushed him away from his body. Their lips ripped apart. Purple eyes shot open, narrowing in on him with a terrifying, offended stare.

“What the fuck was that?”

“I told you I didn’t want to date!” Lance glared back at the man standing tall above him.

Lotor’s frame towered over him, closing him off from the rest of the world until they were in their own little bubble, “Bull shit. You spent this whole weekend cuddled up to me and on my arm. All I’ve ever done for you is try and help you, and this is how you try and repay me for it?”

“It doesn’t matter what I want?” Lance snapped back, “I said I wanted to be friends! I don’t want a relationship with you, or anyone right now!”

“Right now?” Lotor scoffed, “Do you seriously think anyone else would _ever_ want you?” He broke into a mocking laughter, “You really are precious.”

“Stop being an ass!”

“I’m being an ass? Have you looked in the mirror? You think you’re better than me?” Lotor slammed his hand onto the cold metal of the car, barely an inch from Lance’s face.

The younger man’s reflexes kicked in and without his consent, his cheek turned. From the corner of his eye Lotor’s other arm moved, and, before he knew it, his own arm, the same one that was assaulted last night, flew up to cover as much of his face as possible, “No! I don’t!”

Lotor ripped his hand away from his face, gripping at the purple blemish that decorated Lance’s skin like a bracelet. He squeezed the mark and leaned in aggressively, “You’re a liar too.”

“Stop it! Let go of me! If you hit me, I’ll scream, and you know they’ll hear me!” Lotor did not move, and Lance continued, “You’d ruin your whole nice guy persona to my family.”

“You don’t have it in you.”

“You want to rest your chances on that?” Lance challenged.

Lotor released his wrist and glared, “You wouldn’t survive in the world without my help, Lance. You think those doctors want to help you? Bull shit. They just make money with every pill you pop. They just want to drug you up, so you can be their little cash cow. Those doctors only keep you around, because they get paid for every visit. And your family? They don't want you around either. They’re forced to keep you around. Trust me. Your ‘friends’? They just pity you. They keep you around because they feel bad that you’re so pathetic. If they were stronger people, they’d drop you in a heartbeat, but they’re soft. They don’t like you. You burden them and your family. That’s all you are to any of them. A burden. I’m the only one who really wants to help you. I’m the only one who genuinely wants you around. I think you should think about that.”

“That’s not true.” Blue eyes met purple ones in an act of defiance.

“Ha. You’re such an idealist. It’s time to start being a realist. If they cared, your family would have woken up last night. You would’ve gotten a call from one of those so-called friends. But, I guess I’m the only one who takes time out of their busy life to call you and check up on you. Once again, I’m the only one who does anything for you. I’m looking out for you, Lance. No one else is.” Lotor’s face leaned closer, and Lance could feel the air of every exhale crawl across his skin. His shoulders curled forward, and his eyes fell to the snow-covered tar under the intensity of the other man’s gaze, “Better.”

A hand reached out, and Lance’s head swiftly turned. What he had expected to become pain had only been a slow motion of long fingers gently running through his hair, coaxing him to look back at the man shrinking his personal bubble into nothing. He played with his own fingers, unable to meet Lotor’s eyes, “Do you really want me around?”

“Of course I do, Angel Eyes.” Lotor said sweetly, his interactions gradually becoming softer.

“I’m sorry for yelling.”

“I forgive you.” Lotor tilted Lance’s chin up to meet his, “Just be good for me.”

“I will.”

“Good boy. I’ll come back soon, promise.” Lotor stepped around the front of his new car and slid into the front seat. The doors lowered from above the car, securing him inside. The car came to life, quietly humming in the silence that was the outdoors. The window rolled down, and Lance leaned forward to get a better view of the man inside. Lotor threw him a charming smile, “Love you, Angel Eyes.” The car pulled out of the driveway, then stopped perpendicular to the driveway, “Oh, and Lance?”

“Yeah?”

“Another stunt like that, and you’re just as _worthless_ to me as you are to everyone else.”

The insanely expensive white car departed the area, and hot water trailed down his frozen cheeks in small doses. He took a seat on the stone walkway, uncaring of the bundles of snowflakes resting beneath him. A hand raised to cover the embarrassing motions of his mouth. He never deserved people like Hunk, Shiro, and Pidge. He should have never even let his problems become his family’s issues. He could have just toughed it out and pushed his way through school and been out of the house by now. But, instead, he had to try and give up like a lazy coward. Lotor was right about everything, and there was no fighting it. He was a burden. That is all he would ever be. Sniffs turned to sobs, and he stayed put, exposed to the bitter air in the same way he should be.

Alone.


	10. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lance could talk to Keith, right? It was not like anything would come of it. 
> 
> Or maybe he should have just expected the fall out either way.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys! Sorry for being so inactive lately, last week I did not have computer access and this week has been full of twelve hour practices for color guard plus finishing college move in on top of that. So I've been pretty busy.
> 
> Anyways, trigger warning for self harm and unreality(?), and mentions of suicide and disordered eating.

Headlights illuminated the area, reflecting off the snow and blinding the pair of blue irises that rose to investigate the sudden change in lighting. The red Ford Fusion pulled into the driveway, stopping in front of the shivering brunet. Out of the vehicle stepped Keith, adorned in the same decorated leather jacket as usual, black joggers tucked into combat boots, and band shirt that he had gotten from a concert him and Lance attended together back in their sophomore year of high school. His black hair was securely tied behind his head, making the brand new red streak in his bangs much more prominent.

Of all people who had to show up in that moment, it just had to be Keith. He had to embarrass himself in front of the one person he wanted to see the least.

This had to be a cruel joke.

“Lance, what the fuck happened to you? How long have you been out here?” Keith kneeled in front of him, “Let’s get you inside.”

“No!” He swatted Keith’s hand away. “I’m fucking fine.”

“No, you’re not. You’re in a t-shirt and sweatpants in below-freezing weather, at least get in the car.”

“I don’t want to.”

“Lance, stop being stubborn. It’s either in the car or in the house.”

“Just leave me here! It’s what I deserve anyway.”

Keith’s tone softened, “Let’s just get in the car and warm up a bit. I’ll get you hot chocolate, on me.”

Lance shook his head again.

Keith stripped the black, worn, leather jacket off his body and draped it over Lance’s shoulders, attempting to secure it over his chest the best he could, “Just for the hot chocolate. I’ll take you right back here after if you want. Twenty minutes, that’s it. If you don’t, I’m going to sit here with you until you go inside.”

“Fine.” He wiped the wetness from his puffy eyes and opened the car door. Seating himself on the leather passenger seat, he brought his knees to his chest but still remained unable to regain the heat he lost to the monster outside called winter.

Keith retook the driver’s seat and cranked the heat up, turning the knob as far as possible to the right. He slipped out of the car again, reached into the trunk, and walked around to the passenger side. Opening the door, he tossed a blanket over the other man and tucked in the sides as best he could. He closed it and returned to his seat, starting the car and driving away from the house, “Warm enough?”

“No, I feel like I’m dying.”

“In a literal or figurative sense?”

“Really Keith?”

“You know I’m bad at making those distinctions. I’m a literal person.”

“I’ve noticed.”

“Can I ask why you were sitting out there?”

“I don’t want to talk about it.”

“Is there anything you _do_ want to talk about with me?”

“No.”

Keith sighed, then reached down for his phone, keeping his eyes on the road as best as he could, and typed out the artist he was searching for.

“Keith.” An annoyed tone came from the other side of the car.

“I know, I know. One sec.”

“Not ‘one sec’. I would think losing your second set of parents in a fucking car crash would make you a bit more careful.”

“You have touchy subjects and so do I, so cut it out.”

“Even if you’re okay with dying, are you ready to put Shiro through that again? He won’t even drive a car five years later. He _bikes_ to work.”

The song changed and Keith dropped the phone into the cupholder, “Look, I’m done. So you can stop.”

He leaned further into the seat, despite the seat belt’s restrictions, and tried to cover himself more with the blanket he was given a few minutes ago, careful not to irritate his bad finger. Resting his eyelids, he tuned in to the lyrics to the song coming through the stereo, “Is this Blink-182?”

  
“What else would it be?”

“Look, Keith, I appreciate it. I do, but it’s uncomfortable.”

“What do you mean?”

“I know Blink-182 was our thing back then, and you remembering that is pretty cool, I guess. But, we’re not a thing anymore.”

“I know.”

“Okay, but you act like we are.”

“How?”

“Keith, you talk to me like you haven’t been gone for five years. You try and talk to me like we’re on good terms. I don’t feel close to you anymore _at all_. And I don’t think you’re getting that.”

“Then tell me, how you want me to talk to you? Because you’re not very keen on letting me talk to you in general.”

“I don’t know, okay?! Just start from the beginning.”

“Lance, I’m still not getting what exactly you want me to do. You won’t let me talk to you. I can’t talk to you about anything if you don’t want to hear from me.”

“I don’t want to talk to you like we’re best friends or boyfriends or anything.”

“Then what would make you more comfortable?”

“I don’t know Keith. I can’t think right now. It’s all just a mess, and I want to fucking die!”

“Lance…”

“Fuck. Pretend I didn’t say anything.”

“I don’t want to.”

“Don’t be a jackass!”

“Hate me all you want Lance, but I still care about you. If you’re going to say things like that, I’m going to take it seriously.”

“Just drop it.”

“Fine, but one more comment like that, and I’m telling Sofia.”

“Fine.” Lance grumbled, hiding half his face in the blanket.

  
Keith pulled up in front of The Grind and shifted the car into park, “I’ll be right back.” He exited the car, leaving the engine running, and entered through the wooden door. A few minutes later, he reappeared with two paper cups, each one with a brown ring around the middle and a white plastic lid. He rejoined Lance and handed him one of the cups.

“Are you sure this one is mine?”

“Uh, yeah I think so?”

“Keith you should check. You’ll get sick if it’s not.”

“I’ll be fine.”

“You say that now, but once you’re curled up with stomach pains, you’ll change your mind.”

“Whatever.”

“Keith, no. Not whatever. What the hell’s gotten into you?”

“I’m just in a bit of mood, that’s all. Sorry if I was aggressive before.”

“It’s fine. Sorry for yelling earlier… it’s been a weird weekend for me.”

“Apology accepted.” Keith inspected the side of his cup, and when he came across a lack of markings, he reached across to take the other cup from Lance’s hand. “Here, hold this.” Placing the unmarked cup in the other man’s grasp, he lifted the new one to eye level and rotated it. Finding the black markings indicating the drink was, in fact, dairy free, he popped the small section of the plastic lid designated for drinking up and took a sip.

“I’m assuming that’s the non-dairy one?”

Keith nodded.

He pulled his other hand out from underneath the blanket and grasped the cup with both hands.

“What happened to your hand?”

He turned his gaze up to look at Keith. His eyes were wide, purple irises stuck on the offending image, and his mouth was dropped open, unable to form another word.

It was an expression Lance would not forget.

“Look, it’s nothing. It’s fine.”

“Fine? Lance, that’s not fine. Your finger is _swollen_. Can you bend it?”

“No.”

“Lance, it’s broken!”

“It’s fine. Just drop it.”

“No. Lance, I’m taking you to urgent care. You need to at least get a cast.”

“I’m not getting out of this now, am I?”

“No.”

Lance sighed, “Then can I at least finish my hot chocolate before you crazy drive there?”

“Fine. But once you finish it, I’m taking you.” Gently, Keith took the injured arm into his hand and extended it to get a closer look. “Lance, is this a hand print?”

“Stop it.” He took his hand away, hissing when the bruise in question came into contact with the inside of the car door.

“I can’t. Who hurt you?”

“I don’t want to talk about this. Especially not with you.”

“Lance, please. I need you to cooperate with me.”

“No! I don’t want to!” His breaths became more shallow and frequent, “Don’t touch me!”

“Lance—”

“Stop it! Stop it! Stop it! Stop it!” His hands shook, the brown liquid sloshing around. His mind spiraled down and down, until it was nothing but a disarray of turbulent, panic-stricken thoughts. And the world spun. It was as if pieces were flying off the very edges, and the world crumbled apart until there was nothing left but the car he and Keith were sitting in.

And then, it collapsed.

Everything fell in on him. The ground. The sky. The car. The air. It all caved in. Suffocating him until his heart hammered in his chest and his lungs all but collapsed.

Keith’s mouth moved, but every word that went in his ears was only deflected. Each action was as if it was a sick joke from his mind, showing him how Keith was fine, and he was suffering.

Maybe it was a sick joke. This whole thing was not actually happening. It was all just something his brain had made up. Nothing in front of him was real. It was a sadistic prank. An illusion of his thoughts. Even the things he could touch. The hand gently holding his. All of it was fake. Every fleeting, unfocused glance at Keith just convinced him more that the man across from him could crumble away any second.

None of this was reality. Not the car. Not the town surrounding them. Not Keith.

Not even him.

Frantic hands panicked to find something, anything, that had feeling. A horrid tingling sensation ran up and down his body. He slapped his hands onto his face. The physical sensation failed to tell his head that anything was there. The same mantra chanted on in his terrifying thoughts.

Not real. Not real. Not real. Not real. Not real.

His good hand balled into a fist. It slammed down onto his battered arm with incredulous, anxiety-driven force. Then, again. And again. And once more, before the hand was taken from him and given a light squeeze.

He tugged his hands away, but only found the grip became firmer with each attempt. The pressure placed on them began to lull him back to where he had been before, coaxing him into a slightly more functional state.

“I’m sorry— I can’t— This isn’t real, I’m not real, you’re not real— Keith, make it stop. I want it to stop.” Ugly sobs ripped from his mouth, as he pleaded Keith to perform the impossible. Had he been crying? Had he been talking? Everything blurred together, leaving him with no choice but to make the inference as he fought the remaining symptoms of his anxiety overload.

“I’m here, Lance. I’m here, I’m real. You’re real. I promise this is all real. Shitty, but real.”

He struggled to swallow, choking on nothing. His eyes flew everywhere but Keith, unable to fight off enough anxiety to attempt eye contact. His breaths slowly began to decrease in amount per minute, no thanks to the rapid emotions bubbling through his system. The world moved a bit slower, eventually halting completely, and the tremors ripping through his body crawled near their end, leaving his hands to be the only remaining victim for their terrifying reign. Soon, his heart settled and the only disruption in his breathing were the sobs and occasional hiccups that accompanied his emotional episode.

“Do you want to talk about it?”

He shook his head quickly.

“Do you need a hug?”

He answered with a nod.

Strong arms pulled him closer until his chest was against Keith’s. His arms wrapped around Keith’s torso, and his hands found purchase in the fabric of the other man’s t-shirt. His hands still trembling against Keith’s back, despite his grip on the apparel, his face found a home on the cotton-clad shoulder offered to him.

And he cried.

He held on tight, and Keith held him in return, letting his eyes pour the day’s hurt out of his body. His face pressed into the crook of Keith’s neck, and the rest of his body followed, attempting to find a way to get closer to the other body heat in the car. He undid the restricting black seat belt and tried to lessen the proximity between them, only to find himself blocked by the console.

Keith guided him into the backseat, navigating Matt’s stray belongings by carelessly tossing them over the top of the seat and into the trunk. Lying down, he carefully pulled Lance toward him, resting the other body close to his. Letting Lance resume his former position in a different orientation, he wrapped his arms around his figure once again.

He laid to Keith’s side, pressed against him. His hips made it between Keith’s legs and his face returned to the junction of the other boy’s neck and shoulder. With his chest against Keith’s own, he sniffed and brought his unsteady hands back to their temporary home in the fabric of Keith’s shirt.

It was all he wanted. To be held. Held in a way that was gentle, loving, as if he had a choice in the matter.

A way that did not have him longing, begging for a chance to escape.

Half-clothed fingers ran through his hair, pushing his bangs back into the rest of the strands. The tips of his fingers grazed his scalp in a soothing manner, coaxing him to relax into Keith’s hold. The uneven sniffs and gasps began to die down, leaving the two huddled together, the only sound keeping them from silence being the low hum of the car engine. Another hand began to move, stroking along the length of Lance’s back, not convincing him to leave the embrace any sooner.

Finished with his crying spell, his thoughts drifted to just how _close_ Keith really was to him. The familiar earthy smell, laced with the new scent of cigarette smoke, surrounded him, filling his nostrils and lulling him further into his sense of security. He slung one of his legs over Keith’s thigh and positioned his own body closer, as if he was trying to leave no space between them. And in that moment, he was a teenager again, lips against Keith’s skin and mouth, tongue diving in and clothes being scattered, leaving the two of them to nothing but a mess of pleasure and hot, sweaty friction. He could move his hands up the expanse of Keith’s back, mouth leaving small bites and kisses along his neck, lost in the sensation that was Keith.

But that was not where he was. He was twenty-two. He was not a high schooler anymore. He was not sharing an intimate moment with someone he loved. He was cuddled up with his ex-boyfriend in the back of a car that did not belong to either of them in a moment that he knew would have to end.

How cruel life was to remind him so vividly of good memories he could never have again.

Removing his face from Keith’s neck before his impulse to glide his lips across the other man’s skin became too strong to ignore, he met the concerned purple eyes of the man in question.

“Are you okay?” Keith's voice came out soft, careful to keep the conversation relaxed, as if afraid to scare Lance away. His purple irises looked back at him, filled with whatever concern someone like Keith could muster, watching him with the false concern that had most likely littered their relationship years ago.

Because there was no way Keith could genuinely care about him.

Yet, despite the fact that he knew Keith had more important priorities, he could not bring himself to push him away this time. He _needed_ support, he _needed_ to talk.

He just needed _someone_.

And Keith was the only one there.

It would be fine. He would open up to Keith for twenty minutes, then shut him out again. The moment would end there. He could pretend the weekend had gone normally and that Lotor was not a complete asshole that he did not know how to get rid of.

He could pretend that he was just another twenty-two year old trying to get through an ordinary life, that he was not struggling with mental illness or a cycle of abuse.

That everything was normal.

He gazed back at Keith. “I don’t know.”

“Lance, I know I’m not the person you want comfort from, but I’m all you’ve got right now. I’m taking you to urgent care to get your finger checked out. But if you don’t work with me, I’m going to have to tell them the truth, because I know someone broke it. So, what happened?”

“I don’t really want to talk about it…”

Keith sat up, bringing Lance’s body with him a few moments after. The brunet’s head rested on his shoulder, and he held him to his body. “I know you’re trying to protect someone.”

“So what if I am…”

“We could come up with a story or something? But I can’t help you unless you tell me what actually happened… Was it the friend you had over?”

A long pause filled the space left between them before Lance spoke, “So, what if it was? We got in a fight. I wouldn’t let him have my phone, so he broke my finger to take it from me, and then he deleted all my contacts. Happy?”

“Lance, that’s abuse.”

“No.”

“What do you mean ‘no’? It’s fucking abuse, Lance. He _broke your finger_!”

“We’re not dating. It’s not like he can attach himself to me like that, so I’m fine. He’s just an ass.”

“Lance, people are worried about you. And don’t tell me that’s a lie, ‘cause I’m living in a two bedroom apartment with three people who care about you more than you can imagine.”

“You just don’t get it Keith.”

“I don’t get what? That you’re being treated horribly?!”

“It doesn’t matter!”

“Of course it matters Lance!”

“No!”

“Shiro was having a fucking panic attack on the living room floor! And if it woke _me_ up then you know it’s bad. It was all, because he was scared shitless of losing someone close to him again. If you didn't matter, I wouldn’t be sitting in a car with you right now Lance.”

“At least he wants to be with me.”

“He broke your finger, scratched up your arm, bruised your wrist, and deleted all your contacts. That’s not love Lance.”

“And what we had was? You just dumped me and left one day out of the blue! And you never even told me why! You knew that I had problems and that I felt worthless about myself, and you still left me without giving me an explanation! What did I do?! When we broke up, I said sorry, and I didn’t even know what I did that was wrong! I don’t know why you broke up with me besides the fact that I had to have been a shit boyfriend who couldn’t support you when you needed me most!”

Keith flinched, then blinked several times as he processed the new information, “...Is that why you’re mad at me? Because I didn’t tell you why I broke up with you?”

“Yes! If you can leave without an explanation and not even try to discuss it with me, how am I to expect that you won’t do it again? If you hated me so much that you didn’t want to date me anymore, you should’ve just told me.”

“Why didn’t you just tell me?! The breakup had nothing to do with you.”

“I was kinda half of it!”

“You’re not the reason I left.”

“Bull shit.”

“Lance.”

“What?”

“You know what.”

“No, I don’t Keith, just like I don’t know what the fuck I did that was so terrible. So please, enlighten me.”

“You’re not the reason I left town, and you’re not the reason I broke up with you.”

“Every time someone says ‘it’s not you, it’s me’, it’s complete and utter bull shit, and you know it, Keith.”

“No, it’s not.”

“Then why did you feel it was necessary to run away like a fucking _coward_?!”

The other man stared back at him, wordless. His next line came out softer, almost broken,  “How can you say that?”

Okay, he just _really_ fucked up.

If God was out there he would be more than welcome to strike him down right now.

“Keith, I didn’t–”

“Oh, you didn’t what Lance?! You didn’t know? Because you definitely do!” When Lance did not say anything, Keith continued, “I’m a fucking orphan! My family died _twice_ , and the only ones left want nothing to do with me! The only family member I have who doesn’t completely shove me away is Shiro, and even he said if I don’t start picking myself up more I can’t be staying with him much longer! That’s my life Lance, and it’s something you will never understand, because you have a huge family who all love you!”

“I literally have family members who refuse to talk to me since I came out! You’re not the only one who knows rejection and abandonment! And that doesn’t mean you can’t be at fault for abandoning people yourself!”

“Do you want to know why I left Lance?! Do you really want to know?!” Keith snapped, “It’s because I’m afraid of losing people! My dad died when I wasn’t even in high school, my mom was never in my life, the only friend I had before you was Shiro, and when my dad died his parents adopted me! Then, guess what? They fucking died! I was eighteen years old with no where to go and no one to turn to! That’s fucking scary!”

“You could’ve come and lived with me! If you needed support Keith, I was your _boyfriend_! That’s the kind of stuff I was there for!”

“Are you not even listening to me?! Something happens to everyone I get close to! Every! Fucking! Time! My dad died! My mom was never there! Shiro’s parents died! Shiro’s fucked up from it forever, and it was only a matter of time until something happened to you too! Because that’s what people do. They leave, and they die! That’s it! And that’s all life is anyway! You’re born, and you better have a good childhood, because if you don’t, that shit’s going to fuck you up forever. Then you have to try and function in society, because that’s the only worth you’ll ever have to anyone. And then, after all that bull shit, you die. We all fucking die. No matter what you do, you die. So even if you don’t leave on purpose, you die and leave that way. So what’s the point? I can just speed it up. Just like people speed up the inevitability of death by killing themselves, I can speed up people leaving me by leaving them first!”

An uncomfortable tremor took over his body, and his next words had left his mouth before his brain could process them, defensive as ever, “Don’t even act like you know why people try and kill themselves Keith! Don’t you ever make those statements! ‘Cause guess what! I don’t have scars on my arms and legs for shits and giggles! And you know that of all people, I would know what that feeling was like!”

“You thought it, but you never acted on it! So you can’t really make any statements either, can you?”

The horrid, suffocating feeling of his windpipe slowly closing was back again, his breaths starting to become short and shorter. “Shut up! Shut up! Shut up! Whether or not I acted on it doesn’t fucking matter! And you wouldn’t have any idea if I had or not, because you haven’t talked to me in five years! But you, someone who has never dealt with what it’s like to have a mental illness, has no fucking right to _ever_ make that kind of comment!”

Keith took a handful of his own hair, tugged it harshly, then reached into his jogger’s right pocket. Pulling out a box of cigarettes, he rolled down the window and carefully lit one, following the action by placing the cylindrical object to his lips.

Shedding Keith’s jacket, Lance climbed over the console, back into the passenger seat. Once he was certain his face was no longer in Keith’s view, he let the faucet to his eyes turn on once again, making sure to muffle any auditory evidence of his current actions.

And that is how he sat with Keith. In complete silence and knowledge of the other’s activities, completely discontent but unwilling to change the atmosphere. The clock on the car inched along, the numbers practically crawling to their expected change every minute, yet time itself seemed to be even longer. It ate at him, his tears ending and his body filling with an increasing need to _do something_ . His fingers wrestled each other, as his mind ran circles in what to do, eventually settling on the one thought of how he should probably actually _talk_ to Keith instead of sitting in a car alone but also not alone. Despite how much he had been forcing himself to dislike Keith since he had come back to town, for some reason he really did not want Keith to be mad back at him. He had to say something, ease this somehow.

“How long have you been smoking?”

Great way to start a conversation, Lance. Absolutely, perfect. Very intelligent. Not like Keith was in a mood or anything.

“What do you mean?”

Well, no going back now.

“Well, you weren’t smoking five years ago.”

“And you’ve lost a lot of weight since then, too. People change.”

“Is that supposed to be an insult? I wasn’t fat! I was a varsity athlete! You used to wear my jacket everywhere!”

“It’s not an insult, it’s an observation Lance. I’m not calling you fat. You were a perfectly healthy weight. I’m saying that you look unhealthy _now_. You lost all your muscle mass.”

“Yeah, well shit happens.”

“‘Shit happens’ is a phrase you use for little things, like dropping a spoon when you’re eating or cracking your phone screen. Not for losing so much weight that you don’t have muscles anymore.”

“Just because I don’t tell you something doesn’t mean I’m not aware there’s a problem. But, I do believe _I_ was the one who asked _you_ a question.”

“I started about a year after I left.”

“Those things will give you cancer.”

“I don’t really care anymore.”

“You should.”

“And you should care more about your eating.”

“I do care. It’s just more complicated than that. What’s your excuse?”

“I’m stressed.”

“So you slowly kill yourself?”

“Better than doing it all at once.”

“You’re impossible.”

“Sure, Lance. Believe what you want.”

“I think I like you better when you’re drunk.”

“Thank you, Lance. I’m flattered.”

“What? At least you’re not Mr. Grumpy then. You’re actually able to have a good time and make some jokes.”

“Hey! I’m able to have a good time sober.”

“Nah, not really. You’re always brooding.”

“And you’re always dramatic.”

“Excuse you! I’m a dramatic drunk, too. My personality is very consistent.” Lance replied, earning a small snort from the other man.

Keith rolled up the window and climbed into the front seat. He started the car again, then took the cigarette from his mouth, pressing the hot tip into the flesh of the underside of his lower arm.

“Keith! What the fuck?!”

“What?”

“You’re hurting yourself!”

“Don’t worry about it Lance.”

“What do you mean don’t worry about it?” His voice softened, “Keith, are you okay?”

“I’m fine, just angry right now.”

“‘Fine’ people don’t hurt themselves.”

“Just drop it Lance.”

“Fine, but if I see something like that again, we’re going to have a talk.”

“If I say okay, will you stop?”

“Yes.”

Keith shifted the car into drive. “Okay, if I don’t put out the cigarette properly, we’ll have a talk.”

A long break took over the conversation as Keith began to start on their journey. After a few turns and traffic lights Lance spoke, “Hey, um, can we stop at a convenience store real quick before we go to the doctor?”

“Why?”

“I can’t go in there with bruises like these and expect them to just believe me when I say this was all an accident. So, I need to cover this up.”

“Oh… sure.”

The rest of the ride was filled with silence, only occasionally broken up by small talk. A trip with Keith driving over the speed limit and a pit stop at the convenience store ended with the car parked in front of a rectangular building with the words _Urgent Care_ illuminated on the side.

“Done.” Lance announced, stretching out his arm to show off his cosmetic masterpiece. “Can’t see a thing.”

“Does it hurt? You have a bunch of scratches.”

“Nah, I’m used to it anyway.”

“Lance, that scares me.”

“What scares you?”

“One, that you know how to cover up bruises _that_ well with cheap makeup. And two, that you’re so casual about it. Normally, people would be freaking out about their boyfriend was hurting them, but here you are, barely caring.”

“Okay, no. He’s not my boyfriend. And come on Keith, seriously? Of course I know how to do makeup. What kind of greasy boy to you take me for? Beauty is of the utmost importance.”

“This isn’t about beauty knowledge. It’s about you not being freaked out by this. You’re used to it.”

“Keith, I _really_ don’t want to talk about this okay? Can we please just go inside and get this over with? Please?” His last word came out softer, almost as if it was a plea.

“Okay.” Keith succeeded. He turned off the car engine and traveled to the other side of the car to help Lance out.

“I can get out myself.”

“Fine, fine, do it yourself Mr. Independent.”

“I will.” Lance gave Keith a mini-pose as he spoke, earning a small laugh from the other man. He waited for the lights on the vehicle to flash, signaling that it had been locked, before he made the mental preparation for the long visit ahead of him.

 

* * *

 

“Here, you need your contacts back right?” Keith unlocked his phone, turning the screen toward him. “I don’t have everyone, but I have Shiro, Matt, Pidge, and Thace.”

He took the phone, placing it on his lap, as he strategically navigated the juggling of cellular devices. Avoiding the cast on his index finger, he tapped out the numbers Keith had given him. Each one was placed into a new contact, before Lance handed the phone back to the man next to him. “Thanks.”

“Yeah. If I can get any more numbers from people, I will.”

“That’s really awesome of you. Hey man, look, I know we fought a bit and stuff today, but I really am grateful for you caring about me and taking me to get my finger fixed. So, if you want to stop by the restaurant, any meal you want, it’s on me. Just tell the server your allergy, and I’ll make sure it’s dairy-free. I’ll probably be working, but just let me know when you’re paying, and I’ll cover you.”

“I think I might take you up on that offer.” Keith smiled.

His lips curled upwards in response, and he slipped out of the car, “Thanks again, Keith.”

“Anytime. And, if you need anyone to talk to about that friend, or whatever, then

“I’ll remember that.” He waved Keith goodbye and entered the house. Making his way up the stairs, he mentally readied himself for a bath to forget the stressful events of his weekend.

All he could hope was that the week had better things planned.


	11. Chapter 11

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Maybe that was his entire worth to them. His spot in the group was just the chauffeur, the friend with a big car. It was not like the conversation in the car would die without him anyway.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys! Fun update, I've started my actual semester this week, not just marching band. Unfortunately, it's already taking a lot of time from my schedule since I'm a junior and computer science is more than hard. Speaking of this, I will be trying my very hardest to keep with this update schedule, but if anything comes up it will be on my tumblr, which is linked in the end notes. I really hope everyone understands.
> 
> Anyways, trigger warnings for suicidal thoughts, self gas-lighting, and mentions of abuse.
> 
> Also, there is a group chat scene in this chapter. The messages who are not specified from any sender are the messages from Lance. Just to clarify in case it was confusing to anyone.

_ Warm air passed by the two seated on top of the roof of the tall house, blowing brown and black hair to the side. An old beaten up green blanket shielded them from the rough shingles that made up the surface of choice. It was decorated with a few horizontal white stripes, old stains from God knows what drinks or foods, and frayed at the edges. It was not perfect, but it was theirs.  _

_ The sky above them did not have a cloud for miles, and this was another moment Lance was grateful he did not live close to New York City. The sky shone brightly, the full moon illuminating the ground as if it was a flashlight from some larger being, and the endless black of space was adorned with an array of stars. Each ball of gas looked so beautiful, the fact that some were actual planets and that others would soon explode, letting the universe constantly change. _

_ It was magnificent. _

_ A head of long black hair leaned closer to him. With an arm around the other’s shoulders, he let his companion rest on his body, the smile on his face increasing every moment. He pressed his face into the soft locks in his proximity, breathing in the combination of summer air and sweet shampoo. _

_ Space might be be magnificent, but this? Well, this was home. _

_ And he could not of been happier. _

_ “Hey, Lance.” _

_ “Yeah, what’s up?” _

_ “I think, I think I decided on a new name.” _

_ “Woah! Really? Give me the details.” _

_ “Keith.” _

_ “I like that.” _

_ “You mean it?” _

_ “Yeah, I think it suits you.” _

_ “You're not being an ass, right?” _

_ “No. Keith, Keith, Keith, Keith, Keith.” He repeated the name, affectionately rubbing his face into Keith’s hair each time, earning a laugh from the other man. “Does it sound right when I say it to you?” _

_ “Perfect.” Keith replied, “But I think anything you say to me sounds good, so I don't know how much weight that holds.” _

_ “Come on Keith, you can't just say things like that!” Lance felt blood rise to his cheeks. “What if I said your face is stupid? Does it still sound good then?” _

_ “Yes, because I know you're lying to me, and you're bad at it.” _

_ “I hate you.” _

_ “You don't.” _

_ “Shut up.” _

_ “No.” Next thing Lance knew, Keith’s hand dove for his underarm, fingers working deviously to elicit laughter from him. “Come on, smile for me.” _

_ “Cheater!” Lance cried, laughter pouring from his mouth. _

_ “All’s fair in love and war!” Keith pushed him onto his back, continuing his makeshift torture method. _

_ “I bet you don't even know what that means!” _

_ “I bet you don't either!” _

_ “Keith, stop! I'm gonna fall off the roof!” _

_ “Fine, fine.” Keith released him from the binds of laughter. “But I still want to see you happy, okay?” _

_ “You’re here. How could I not be?” _

_ Keith smacked his arm playfully. _

_ “Hey. I’m just telling the truth.” When Keith only responded with an eyeroll, Lance continued on a new topic, “Did you get your hair appointment yet?” _

_ Purple eyes widened, as if Lance had reminded him of something forgotten. “Yes! I did, but I’m still not sure what style I want. I need the help of a beauty expert. So, where’s Sofia?” _

_ “Ouch.” _

_ “I’m kidding.” _

_ “Well, in that case. Lance Fuentes is on duty.” He took Keith’s medium length hair into his hands, sitting cross-legged behind him. “Where should we start?” _

_ “I don’t know…” Keith admitted, “I really, really want short hair, but I’m also… apprehensive?” _

_ “What do you mean?” _

_ “Hard to explain. I want to look like a boy so badly, but I don’t know how I feel about short hair?” _

_ “Well, boys can have long hair too.” _

_ “But, I don’t really want this kind of hair either. Maybe a longer boyish cut?” _

_ “That would work. Do you want bangs? You could get one of those mushroom cuts.” _

_ “No. I’m not getting a bowl cut.” _

_ “Then what kind of style do you want?” _

_ “I don’t know. I want to keep my bangs, but I don’t really like having my neck exposed…” _

_ “You want it long in the back, but short on the sides?” _

_ “Yeah.” _

_ “Keith, that’s a mullet.” _

_ “And?” _

_ “Friends don’t let friends have mullets.” _

_ “It’s not a big deal, Lance.” _

_ “If you get a mullet, I’m going to shave your head myself.” _

_ “Now I’m going to get one, just because it bothers you.” _

_ “You’re actually the worst.” _

_ “I try.” _

_ Lance let Keith’s locks fall through his hands. He plopped his head into Keith’s lap and looked up at him. “Excited for high school next month?” _

_ “Yeah.” Keith’s fingers threaded themselves into Lance’s hair absent-mindedly. “I’m really excited to finally be me.” _

 

* * *

 

Shiro's Groupies  
  
All aboard the Fuentesmobile. The gayest Cuban travel service available. Current stop: Hunk’s apartment.  
  
Shiro The Hero  
Can we PLEASE change the name of this group chat?  
Pidgeot  
Never.  
Queen Of My Heart  
Why Shiro? Is Matt jealous?  
Memelord420  
No guys. You’ve got it all wrong. Shiro’s the jealous one.  
Shiro The Hero  
Shut up Matt.  
How about you all shut up. You’re killing my battery.  
Hunk 'a Burnin' Love  
Guys, Lance is supposed to be driving.  
And you’re supposed to be in my car, but neither of those things are happening. And I know better than to text and drive.  
Pidgeot  
Lance, your ADHD-ass is going to be preoccupied with the chat instead of focusing on the road.  
ONE TIME PIDGE! And Hunk wtf are you even doing? I've been waiting outside your house.  
Hunk 'a Burnin' Love  
I've been distracted reading your texts. I'm almost done brushing my hair.  
You're not even ready?! God save us, I'm the EARLY one for once.  
Pidgeot  
Lance is on time guys. The end of the world is here. We’re all gonna die.  
Hunk 'a Burnin' Love  
My job is stressful. I wake up at 5am everyday. I'm tired guys. I have tired eyes.  
Aren't there like 3 insomniacs on this chat?  
Shiro The Hero  
You, me, and Katie.  
Pidgeot  
I only slept for 3 hours last night.  
I got four.  
Shiro The Hero  
One.  
Memelord420  
Okay, go back to bed you fuck. We can hang out later.  
Shiro The Hero  
Please don’t make me sleep. My dreams are actually terrifying.  
Hunk 'a Burnin' Love  
That’s actually terrible for you. You have to sleep.  
Hunk I s2g get off your phone and get out here. Matt, you’re on Shiro duty. Make sure he’s taking care of himself.  
Shiro the Hero  
I’m 26 years old. I can take care of myself.  
Queen Of My Heart  
Clearly you can’t. Besides, haven't there really only been 6 Feb 29th since you were born? Therefore, you're 6, not 26. 6 year olds require a lot of care.  
Aren’t you all in the same room anyway? Stop killing my battery and actually talk to each other you fucking millennials.  


Finally, after waiting for ten thousand years, Hunk opened the front door to the apartment building. The larger man quickly took his spot in the passenger seat beside Lance. Tugging the seat belt over his figure, he gave several apologies for his tardiness.

“Hunk, this is your own birthday dinner.” Lance reminded, “And you’re late.”

“I told you. I'm tired, Lance. This is the first weekend I haven't worked in three weeks.”

“I worked fourteen hours yesterday, and I’m still here.”

“Yeah, but you can't get fired if you decide you want a day off. Your dad is your boss.”

“He just goes on a rant about how I need to take my life seriously.”

“Okay, true.”

Lance shifted the car into drive and started the two of them on their journey to the second of three apartment buildings that had to be visited.

“So, you got your dad’s fancy car today, huh?”

“Yep. Large group today, so I needed the bigger one.”

“And you hooked your phone up to it as soon as you got into it.”

“You know it.”

“You should've invited that guy you're seeing, Lance. I want to meet him.”

“Where would I put him? Besides, he probably would've been busy.”

Hunk pouted. “We could've taken separate cars.”

“Really? You try getting Shiro to agree to be inside of a moving car.”

“Okay, true. But will you  _ ever _ stop being so secretive about him? I need my gossip.”

“I just don't want to blow it up.”

“How are you blowing it up? Just tell me his name.”

“No.”

“Why not?”

“Because you know him.”

Hunk gasped, “Is it Shiro? I bet it’s Shiro! His whole super close cuddle facade with Matt is just a cover up for you two to be together in secret!”

“No, Hunk. I'm not dating Shiro.” Lance replied, the amount of done he was accented by his stop at a red light.

“So, you are dating this guy then.”

“No. I'm just talking to him.”

“But you just referred to it as dating.”

“Hunk, cut it out.”

“Please tell me. I'm dying, Lance. I won't tell anyone, I promise.”

“We both know that's a lie. You can't keep a secret for your life.”

“False. I never told anyone about your relationship with Lotor.”

“Okay, but that would be a super fucked up thing to do.”

“So is keeping secrets from your best friend.”

“Hunk, the moment I feel like it's solid, I'll give you all the details.”

“Alright, but you told me everything about Plaxum. What makes this guy different?”

“I had a  _ really _ big thing for Plaxum before we started going out.”

“And you don't for this guy?”

“I don't even know if I really like him as something other than a friend.” Lance admitted, stopping the car outside of their next pit stop on the way to dinner. He quickly instructed Hunk to pop Shay a text to meet them outside before continuing. “I don't even know if I'm really ready to date anyone at all right now. And before you ask, no, it has nothing to do with Plaxum dumping me.”

“Then tell him that.”

“It's not that easy.”

“And why not?”

“He’s kinda… pushy?”

“Then dump his ass.”

“We’re not dating.”

“Then like, friend dump him? You can do that right? That's a thing? Shiro said you can get a friend crush, so you can friend dump too, right?”

“I guess?” Lance shrugged and turned his head to face the opening back door of the car. “Hey, Shay!”

“Hey.” She responded, putting on her seat belt, “Happy birthday, Hunk!”

“Yep, our big gassy genius is twenty-three. How does it feel?”

“The same.”

“Damn. And I was excited for July.” He threw the vehicle back into drive, resuming their trip. 

“Sorry man. Birthdays just don't feel special anymore after twenty-one.”

“Yeah, but you’re not supposed to  _ tell  _ me that.”

“Too late. So, Shay, how’s school been?”

“Well, actually. I should be done after this upcoming semester if I stay on top of all my classes. I just need some more field experience after that.” The woman in the back answered.

“Then you’ll be Dr. Shay.”

“Close, but yeah.” She laughed.

“We could totally get a place together once you’re done.”

“Sounds great!”

That was right. While Lance was wasting away in his father’s restaurant, his friends were blossoming. Each one was either completing school, working a high-paying job, or just being plain useful to society. Meanwhile, here he was. Going nowhere, stuck without even a set position at his own family’s restaurant, dating but not dating his ex-boyfriend. That was all he would ever be destined for. He would watch all his friends surpass him and forget him, leaving him behind for in twenty years he would not of moved an inch. He was not meant to succeed like his friends have. 

Sometimes, the negative voice in the back of his mind, the insistent nagging, had a good idea. He listened to it once, and maybe, it would be for the best to listen to its demands once more.

The slightly out-of-date pop music filling their surroundings died down for a brief moment, a small chime sound taking its place. The display on the dashboard of the car changed from the album photo and song name to solid white with several black words.

_ Text from Keith Gyeong _

“Oof, it’s his actual name. I don’t think I could live with myself if you were so mad at me that you didn’t even give me a nickname in your phone.” Hunk pointed out.

“Eh, I guess he’s not  _ that _ bad.”

“That’s a change from last week. Wait! It’s Keith! He’s the mystery guy! Your hatred is just a really good cover up! How did I not see it?!”

“No Hunk. It’s not Keith either. I said it was someone from college, remember?”

“Oh yeah. Damn.”

“Speaking of texts though, my phone spazzed out, and I lost my contacts. So, I need your number again when you have a chance.” He pressed his middle finger to the touch screen, careful to avoid hitting the cast, and selected the option to hear the text through audio.

The computerized voice recited the words to him, “So, when are we supposed to meet again? I just woke up.”

“Jesus fucking Christ, Keith. It’s three in the afternoon!” Lance exclaimed, hands going up and hitting the steering wheel on their way back down. He tapped the option to voice input his response. “When did you even go to bed?”

“What happened to ‘Keith’s not my friend. I'm not talking to him’?” Hunk questioned teasingly.

“I can change my mind.”

“Ooooo.” Hunk sounded, as if he was a middle schooler, and Lance had just been called to the principal’s office, “Lance, what did we say about getting back together with your exes?”

“I'm not going to date Keith. It didn't work out the first time, so what would make me think it would work this time?” Well, okay, that was the most bull shit excuse he had ever come up with.  _ Especially _ after making the horrid decision to start talking to Lotor again.

“So, you’ve thought about it.”

“Yes, Hunk. Day and night, my thoughts are consumed by the idea of getting back together. He’s the real reason I don't sleep at night. It was never the depression. I really am just a broken heart who needs my old lover back.” Lance replied, his voice taken over by sarcasm.

“I knew it!”

The display changed once more.

_ Text from Keith Gyeong _

He tapped the display and the computerized voice spoke Keith’s words, “I don't know. Ten?”

He tapped the display again, verbalizing his intended text message, “Don’t tell me if that’s night or morning. I don't want to know. I'm on my way there by the way.”

“So either he slept five hours or fifteen hours.” Hunk observed.

“That's not healthy though.” Shay added.

“Shiro, Matt, and Katie probably all know, so we don't have to worry. They'll address it.” Lance placed the car into park.

“Wait! Matt! Matt’s the mystery man!” Hunk declared.

“Did Matt go to college with us?”

“No.”

“Then he’s not the mystery man.”

“Okay, but you don’t talk to anyone from college besides me. How am I supposed to guess?”

“You don’t. I’ll tell you as soon as I’m ready to.”

“But that’s no fun.” Hunk pouted.

The back door opened, and Allura climbed into the third row of seats. She helped Pidge do the same, letting Keith groggily make his way into the car. The twenty-three year old managed to take a spot next to Pidge, but did not succeed in shaking off the exhausted look that ravaged his body.

A few minutes later Matt exited the glass front doors of the apartment building, Shiro’s hand in his. He said something softly to the taller man, most likely attempting in vain to cure Shiro’s anxiety. The man’s composed outfit of a black collared shirt and nice jeans was a stark comparison to the panicked look in his eyes as his brown irises fell onto the vehicle. Shiro’s body was filled with a tremble that was all too familiar to Lance, something he had dealt with on far too many occasions. 

As much as he knew Shiro was strong, that he could take on the world, everyone had their moments. There was something that could take down even those who seemed to be unstoppable.

For Shiro, that happened to be automobiles.

He turned the key, letting the sounds of the engine die off. “Shiro, if you need a minute that’s fine.”

Slowly, Matt guided his roommate to sit. Standing in front of Shiro’s legs, which had yet to make it into the car with the rest of the man’s body, he quietly gave his friend reassuring words, until both of them had made it comfortably into the backseat, side by side.

“Are you ready to go?” Lance asked, checking on the status of the man in the back.

“Yeah.” Shiro replied softly, obvious anxiety lacing his voice. 

He wanted to stop the trip for a few moments longer, let Shiro recollect his wits before they continued on their journey. But, in the depths of his heart he knew that just leaving was the answer. It would be cruel to sit and wait, taunting Shiro with the possibility of leaving the car, ultimately feeding any anxiety-fueled anger shiro had within him. Filling him with the false belief that his friends considered his illness a burden, that he could not handle it himself. So, instead, he turned the key, taking Shiro’s words for what they were, and resumed the coordinated travel plans to the restaurant of Hunk’s choice.

Navigating the back roads, he found his outlet to the highway. Merging in, careful to stay in the slow lane as to not trigger more anxiety from Shiro, he let his friends’ voices drown into the forced silence his mind projected to his surroundings. His blue eyes glued to what was ahead of him, only a small fraction of his attention on his peripheral vision. Piece by piece, his conscious mind began to wander, slowly drifting into horrid territory. Every car that buzzed past him on his left was another reminder of how much slower he was going compared to everyone else around him. Both figuratively and literally. He could not even keep up when it came to driving. How was he supposed to pretend he was worthy enough to be taking up space on this Earth, in society?

Worthless. That was what he was.

Just as Lotor said.

Yet, as fast as each car went, as cruelly as each reminded him of how he was nothing compared to the rest of the world, one purpose that would benefit him crept into his mind.

He could jump.

Each vehicle zoomed past, none slower than sixty miles an hour. If one just so happened to hit him, that would be it. It would all just go dark, complete blackness, nothingness. 

It would all be over.

And if he just so happened to live? Well, another one would be close to follow, finishing the job.

Or he could skip the mess; crash the car into a large tree. The clean up would be easier for everyone else. Either or.

But he could not do it now. Not with his friends in the car, functioning members of society. They would be missed. Unlike him.

Maybe on the way home.

“Lance.  _ Lance _ .” The voice barely registered, as if it was not real.

“Lance! You’re missing the exit!” Hunk exclaimed from his spot next to him.

Okay, that one got his attention.

With a sharp, startled inhale, he swerved to the shoulder, slamming on the breaks. Before he even had a moment to decide his next move, the back door opened, and one of his passengers fled the car, another following close behind. 

Shit.

Lance turned the key, shutting off the engine. It would be a while.

His head met the steering wheel, refusing to move afterwards. Stupid, stupid, stupid.

“Lance, are you okay? You seriously zoned out.” It was Pidge that spearheaded the conversation.

“Yeah, I’m fine. I just had a moment.”

“If you’re not in the best headspace, someone else can drive.”

“No. It’s fine. I just need a second to recollect.”

“Take your time.” Allura insisted.

He turned his gaze to the right, his eyes falling on the two men sitting on the metal bar outside. The smaller of the two gently held the underside of the other’s hand, helping it remain steady. In Shiro’s hand was Matt’s phone. His roommate was probably showing him some sort of video, distracting him from the overwhelming anxiety that managed to consume him whenever he came face-to-face with the exact thing that had found a way to mess up his life beyond repair.

Ever since the day of the crash, Shiro had not been the same.

He probably never would be.

Come to think of it, Keith changed too. 

He changed a lot.

Matt had moved closer to Shiro, pressing his body into Shiro’s side affectionately. His head poked out just enough to allow him to lay his eyes on the screen alongside his friend. They were two peas in a pod, both dressed in collared shirts, one in brown and one in black. The two of them had something that no one else would ever be a part of. 

Something that Lance would never be a part of with anyone, of any gender, on any side. Maybe that was what he was meant for. To be alone.

If Matt and Shiro had not already started dating behind all of their backs, then they would eventually start sooner or later. Hunk was already talking about moving in with Shay once she completed her last semester. Pidge was already excelling after only one semester in school, whether she realized it or not. Allura would go back to her normal life once her father recovered, and with her would go Coran as well. Keith, well Keith was obviously headed back on the road as soon as his bike was working again.

That just left him. Once all his friends had officially moved to a new point in their lives, he would be forgotten. Unable to keep up with their transitions, he would just be working his life away in the same under the table arrangement as he had done for the last few years.

But, maybe he could have a new point in his life too?

If Matt and Shiro getting together and starting an intertwined life counted, then why would Lance finally accepting Lotor’s requests for a romantic relationship not mean the same?

Perhaps he had been too hard on Lotor in the first place. He had never really considered Lotor’s feelings in the matter. It was not as if Lotor did not understand what it was like to be treated with harsh words and occasional actions that left bruises on his skin. The older man knew the pain of having those who love you turn around and spew venom in your face, spending time in places where the situation could go from zero to one-hundred in mere seconds.

Yeah, Lotor knew better than him how that felt.

Someone who grew up like that could never want to put other people through the same thing. Maybe Lotor had his moments, but there was no way any of those were intentional. Lotor had just shown the left overs of what he learned from the house he grew up in, moments of weakness where he let it slip through.

Each time it happened, he had promised Lance it would not happen again, that he would fix himself and use his words next time.

Even though sometimes those words hurt more than the punches.

Nevertheless, Lotor meant well by those statements. He meant to be a better person, a better lover to Lance.

That is what should count, right?

Lotor  _ wanted  _ to be better. Even if he could not manage that, who was Lance to judge?

He could not pretend that he was perfect. He wanted to be better, too.

That is what him and Lotor were, two souls trying to fix themselves and be better people from the lives they had been given, whether it be mental illness or abuse. Stuck in a world with the barrel of a gun pointed at them both, he wanted love and so did Lotor. In that way, they were meant for one another.

Maybe Lotor had been right when he told Lance three years ago that they were all each other needed. If he wanted love, it was right in front of him. He just needed to get over his own anger. Besides, he had caused every one of those moments he was furious at Lotor for. If he had just listened and been what Lotor wanted him to be, their relationship would have been fine. Even the cast around his finger would not be there, if he had just handed Lotor his phone.

Lotor was right. He could have prevented it all himself.

Matt had Shiro’s hand in his, guiding him back into the car, whispering sweet words of encouragement to the other man.

He would bring up his thoughts to Lotor during their weekly FaceTime next week.

As Shiro and Matt settled themselves back into the car, he glanced around the interior of the vehicle. To his right was Hunk, who was somehow able to have a conversation with Shay, who was seated behind the driver’s seat. Next to her was Shiro, Matt holding his prosthetic hand and his other hand occupied with his phone, most likely playing some random app. He never really cared which one it was, just so long as it kept his mind off the fact that he was in a moving vehicle. Matt had no intention of keeping his distance during this either, comfortably pressed up against Shiro’s side, giving him unneeded comments about the game in Shiro’s left hand. Behind them was the second row of back seats. Sitting directly behind Matt was Keith, completely knocked out, as if he had not slept a wink last night. To his left sat Pidge and Allura, chatting amongst themselves. 

He sighed. Everyone had more important people than him.

Checking to make sure make sure the two who had moved had settled in once more, he restarted the car. He quickly swiped through the GPS’s map to find the new exit and returned to the slow lane of the highway. He turned the volume knob to the right, increasing the intensity of his music. Maybe it would keep his mind from wandering once more.

The GPS verbally signaled that he had gotten them all to their destination in one piece. He parked the car, letting everyone exit before watching the flash, and listening for the small click that accompanied the press of a button on his dad’s car keys. He watched most of his friends enter the restaurant before him, taking his time to check that Matt had escorted Shiro inside without any anxiety flare-ups. Once Shiro had made it inside, his hand fastened securely with Matt’s, Lance began to take the steps toward the double doors.

“Hey, Lance.” Spoke a voice from behind him.

He turned his attention to Pidge.

“Are you okay? You seem a little off.”

“Yeah. I’m good.”

“Well, okay. But, you don’t have to lie to me, you know.”

“I’m not.”

“Sure, Lance.”

“Hey!” He replied, offended, “Just because I’m having an off day doesn’t mean I’m lying about not being okay.”

“It’s just that you’d been zoning in and out a lot today. You’re barely talking to anyone. That’s not the Lance I’m used to.”

“And? It’s just a bad day for me that’s all.”

“Something’s clearly bothering you Lance.”

“Really Pidge, I’m okay. Just a lot on my mind. That’s all.”

“For example?”

“Remember that guy I mentioned when we were at Hunk’s place, and now he won’t let it go?”

“Is it the teasing? Lance, let us know, and we’ll stop.”

“No. It’s not that. That’s just what you guys do. It’s chill. It’s about  _ him _ .”

“What about this guy?”

“I don’t know. I just have to start making some decisions.”

“As in?”

“Well, he really wants a relationship right now, but I’m not one hundred percent on board with that, ya know?”

“Go on.”

“Well, that’s not really what I’m ready for right now. It’s not about not being over Plaxum or anything, like that ship sailed a long time ago. I accepted that. I just don’t want anything super committed right now, but I want intimacy. And it’s not about sex, like sex is great and all, well, you wouldn’t know, but it’s more of just being close to one person in a way that no one else is. I want that, but commitment not so much. Later, yeah. But not right now. I need to redirect my life for that. Casual commitment, maybe. But nothing hardcore. If Plaxum and I hadn’t broken up, we would’ve been married in two weeks, so it’s not that I can’t do commitment. I just don’t want it right now.”

“You don’t have to prove to me that you’re capable of commitment. I know who you are, Lance. And just because I’m ace doesn’t mean I wouldn’t know anything about sex.”

“Pidge, you’re a virgin. Plus, like, you’re eighteen. I don’t think of eighteen-year-olds and wonder about their sex life. And, if you had done the nasty, I’m sure you would’ve told us  _ all _ about the lucky lady.”

“Fine. You have a point.”

“Yeah. Okay. And well, that’s it really. That’s what I’m so preoccupied about, and I’m getting bad thoughts and can’t shake them.”

“Bad thoughts?”

“ _ Bad thoughts _ . You have anxiety Pidge, you know exactly the stuff I’m talking about.”

“Then you should start going to therapy again.”

“Okay, but I lied to my parents about why I stopped. That involves admitting what actually made me stop.”

“Then tell them about what Lotor did. It would help them understand your mental health too.”

“It will be a cold day in hell before they know any of the details about Lotor.”

“I don’t get why you want to protect his image so badly to them. He hurt you.”

“I’m not giving my dad more fodder to use about how I’m going nowhere and can’t even hold a relationship together.”

“He loves you, Lance. He would never think that being abused is you not succeeding.”

“Easy for you to say. It wasn’t you.”

Pidge sighed. “Okay, fine. Don’t tell them. But have you considered the type of relationship you do want?”

“I don’t know. Maybe friends with benefits or something? Intimate without the pressure of progressing it anywhere.”

“There’s nothing wrong with wanting that.”

“Yeah, I know. Maybe I’ll put myself back on Tinder and Grindr soon.”

“If that helps you, then do it. Just be careful of who you’re meeting.”

“I know, I know. Add them on Snapchat first, so you know they’re who they say they are. I’m not going to get catfished Pidge.”

“You never know.” She insisted.

Lance rolled his eyes and entered the restaurant with her. The host guided them to the table where their friends had already been seated.

“What do you think, Shiro? Best miso you’ve ever had? Or could you make better? This is supposed to be the best Japanese restaurant in the area.”

Keith laughed, “Please, you could go to the worst Japanese restaurant in the world, and it would still be better than his cooking. Anything Takashi tries to make ends up burnt. He couldn’t even boil water I bet.”

“All the prodigy genes went to you I guess.” Shiro replied with a smile.

“We’re not blood related, so you need a better excuse.”

“Hey guys, we made sure they got miso for you both. It’s complimentary.” Hunk informed, “We got you menus too.”

“Thanks.” He moved to take a seat with Pidge. 

“Actually, Lance. Can I speak with you for a second?” Shiro requested, rising from his seat next to Matt.

“Oh, yeah. Sure.” He followed his friend into a more secluded part of the restaurant. “What’s wrong?”

“We need to talk about that phone call.”

Fuck.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I want to remind everyone that this is a slow burn so I promise we will be getting more Klance stuff soon. I have a reason for every plot point I put in this story, I promise.


	12. Chapter 12

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Thinking about his time in college was the exact opposite of what Lance wanted to do while celebrating his best friend's birthday. Yet, somehow, here he was, giving out all of that information for free.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> First off, I want to apologize for disappearing for a week. As you all know I'm in college and my major is computer science, which is really time consuming. Unfortunately, I bit off a bit more than I can chew with my course choices, so I've been up very late every night studying and doing homework. Because of this I also have not had a lot of time to write. Along with school, I also had family and friends out in Harvey and was spending a lot of time checking in on them and stressing about their well-being. I've also been suffering from a knee injury for the last nine months, which has gotten much worse over the last month and a lot of my time has gone to caring for it.
> 
> So, with all that in mind, I want to announce that there will be changes to the update schedule. One, instead of once a week, updates will now be once every other week. Two, updates will now be on Saturdays instead of Thursdays. Updating on the weekdays is too much for my schedule and is too much for my beta's schedule as well. I love this story and I love all of you and I want to give you all the best content I can, so I feel this decision is the best so I can continue to give this story the attention it deserves.
> 
> Now, for the actual chapter. 
> 
> Trigger warnings for depictions of past abuse, mentions of self harm, descriptions of severe depression, and descriptions of eating disorders/disordered eating.

This was not how he had expected the day to play out. His phone call to Shiro had been a week ago, yet Lance knew the exact section his friend was about to interrogate him about.

“Look, it’s not as bad as it seemed Shiro, trust me.”

“Am I supposed to believe that Lance?”

“Um, Yeah.”

“Lance, you called me at four in the morning, unable to sleep, telling me your story about your abusive ex-boyfriend. You had a breakdown, almost hurt yourself, then all of a sudden, I hear someone else come in and start threatening you, and you hang up without even saying goodbye. I’m not supposed to worry after that?”

“Yes.”

“Lance.”

“What?”

“You know what.”

“Shiro, I’m fine.”

“You’re obviously not. If you were fine, you wouldn’t have spent hours with Keith the other day. What’s going on?”

“I’m serious. I’m—”

“No Lance.” Shiro interrupted. 

“Can you let me fucking speak?!” Lance snapped.

Shiro closed his mouth. Opened it. Closed it once more then, once regaining a reasonable tone, opened it again. “What’s your reasoning?”

“I’m here. I’m standing. I’m okay.”

“You have a broken finger that mysteriously appeared as soon as your ‘friend’ was here.”

“Okay, one, don’t use that tone when you say friend. I’m not dating him. Two, for all you know I got it caught in a door at work. You weren’t there so you couldn’t know how exactly I broke it.”

“Lance, you’re the one that told me you’re seeing Lotor.”

Shit. Had he really confided that in Shiro? 

Okay, he  _ really _ needed to start getting his story straight and actually remembering who he told what to.

He could fix this.

“Okay, it’s not like we’re dating dating. Just kinda… he wants a relationship, but I don’t. So, we’re in this weird thing where we hang out a lot but there’s no label?”

“Lance, this is the same man who you said would hit you and refused to let you have any friends besides Hunk. The same one who you constantly called an asshole and said you never wanted anything to do with again. You said he was the reason you ended up in the hospital in the first place… Why would you let him back in your life?”

“I did a lot of thinking, okay? He’s just… he’s not as bad as I made him out to be. I was just mad.”

“Lance, you didn’t do that thinking alone.”

“What? I can’t make my own decisions?”

“No. That’s not a rational thought.”

“What do you mean that’s not a rational thought?” Lance asked, offense coating his words.

“Because you were telling us how miserable you were when you were with him, and now suddenly you’re willing to spend time with him. Something had to have helped you come to that conclusion, Lance.”

“Look, you guys… you guys don’t know him the way I do.” Lance replied, his voice giving out a bit in the middle.

“I think you’re trying too hard to justify his behavior. No one should ever be treating you like that. When did you two start talking again?”

“I don’t know, about five months ago?”

“Was it when you broke up with Plaxum?”

“So what if it was? He’s the only person who didn’t dump me. At least I’m good enough for him.”

“If he treats you like you said he did when you guys were in college, then he doesn’t see you on his level at all Lance.”

“Can’t you trust that I know what I’m doing?”

“I’m worried for your safety. You’re the one who said Lotor would hurt you.”

“Well, he promised me he was getting help, so you don’t have to worry.”

“People like him lie through their teeth. They like control. They don’t really care about you the way they say they do.”

“But you’ve never met him, so you couldn’t know what he’s actually like.”

“I can get an idea from what you’ve told me at least.”

“That was before Lotor and I started fixing things. He really does want to be with me, Shiro. Why can’t you just let me have this?” He could feel it, the faucet to his eyes beginning to turn as emotion took over his formally composed voice in his last sentence. “You, David, and Keith…”

“Lance, I want to know the real reason you want to get back together with Lotor.”

He did not want to do this. Not here. This was not the place he wanted to talk about Lotor, past, present, or future.

There was no way he was planning to release all his thoughts and emotions to Shiro in public. No. Not at all. The world would catch him dead before he did that.

Or so he thought, because his mouth had a different plan than his brain.

And he hated himself for it.

“Because I have someone who genuinely wants me in his life. He wants to be a better person for me. He has problems that I know about, and  _ I  _ aggravate them. That’s why it was toxic. If I just keep my cool, it’s a happy relationship. People get back together with exes who messed up all the time. Why is it so different when it’s me? You’re all going to leave and do better things, and then it will just be me by myself. Don’t I deserve a chance at a happy relationship?”

“Lance…”

“I get it. He has a bad streak in him. He has his moments, but I do too. I fly off the handle sometimes. It happens. We’re both fucked up. But he cares about me enough to get himself help, so we can move past what happened. Am I supposed to ignore all that effort? I broke up with him. He asked for another chance, and I’m giving it to him.” His voice grew quiet, “I’m not good enough for Keith and Plaxum. But I’m enough for Lotor. I don’t really want to date right now… but I should give him another shot. At least I can be happy in a relationship, while I fail at everything else in my life…”

“You’re rambling about it. Tell me in a few sentences how you started talking to him again.” Shiro instructed softly.

“I don’t know. When Lotor and I broke up, I had to block him on all my social media and remake a few accounts, because he couldn’t know that I was living with Hunk. When he first found out after I moved out of his place, he used to drive circles around the building and just park his car there sometimes.  _ Especially _ at the times he knew I would be leaving the apartment. I had to have Hunk walk me out to the car sometimes. Lotor was not happy at all. Actually, I moved out when he wasn’t home…” His throat was overcome by a slow, constricting sensation, each breath harder and harder to produce. Yet, he continued, trudging through the horror that was anxiety, “I tried once while he was home. I told him I was leaving then, during a fight, he took my wrists and tied them to pilliar in the apartment we were living in for the night and told me I couldn’t leave. At that point, he was reading all my texts and messages. He hooked up my phone to his imessage on his laptop, so he could see all my texts. I had to download a special app to talk to Hunk, and I think without his support I wouldn’t be here right now. I was really close to trying to kill myself again…” 

Lance felt the comforting hold of another hand against his own, attempting to ease the tremble in his fingers. Had he been shaking?

“And none of that is a red flag to you?”

“No. It is, but around the time Plaxum and I broke up, I guess he found one of the accounts I remade and sent me a message. Being the idiot I am, I opened it and at first I yelled at him, because he caused me enough grief, and I was  _ finally _ getting better. But instead of yelling back at me, he told me he was sorry about Plaxum and I, and that he wanted to be there for me if he could. He said he felt horrible about how our relationship turned out, that he was getting help, and that he wanted to know if he could be involved in my life again as a friend. So we started talking again. It was fine, he stayed in his lane and treated me as a friend and not a boyfriend. Then three months ago we hooked up, and I regret it so bad. I was kinda drunk, and you know how I get. I’m way too easy to convince to do things. Since then, he’s been progressively more flirty and treating me more and more like a boyfriend, and I don’t know if I want to believe him that he’s better or keep him as a friend. And at the same time… what if he really is the only person who would want to be with me long term.”

“Lance, you’re twenty-two. You have a long time to find someone. Don’t rush it. And with Lotor, going by what I heard on the phone, I don’t think he really is better at all, or at least not in enough of an amount that I would feel you were safe being alone with him. In my own opinion, I don’t think he respects you at all. Can I ask what made you want to break up with him?”

“After I got out of the hospital, we moved in together. Since I took a medical leave for my semester, our relationship was falling apart more than ever. I wasn’t in a good place at all, and to top it off, Lotor hadn’t visited me once while I was hospitalized, and he cheated on me while I was there. I tried to kill myself, and my boyfriend cheats on me in response. That’s when the first thoughts set in, especially after weeks of group therapy where I got to talk about him and his behavior. Then the pillar incident only made me certain I had to get out.”

“And you think that’s all forgiven?”

“I know you’re thinking about me Shiro, but I want to give him this chance.”

“I can’t agree with it.”

“I know. No one does. But it’s my life. I can choose who I spend my time with.”

“I’m worried that you’ll end up back where you were when you were dating him.”

“I won’t start doing that stuff again. That was a different point in my life.”

“Then can I see your arms?”

“What? What the fuck? No!” His hands moved from his pockets to quickly cross his arms in front his chest defensively, “You can’t just ask that. That’s like me saying ‘Hey, Takashi, open up your fridge, so I can see if you’re still being an alcoholic’. I’m sure you’d be absolutely thrilled to hear that one.”

“No. I would be reasonably upset, just as you are. But if I had nothing to hide, I would open up that fridge anyway.”

“Okay, but maybe I have nothing to hide, and I just don’t want to open up the fridge? You should be able to trust me.”

“Who said I didn’t trust you?”

“You. The moment you asked me to roll up my sleeves for you.”

“It doesn’t meant that I don’t trust you. It just means that I’m concerned about you. Even outside of Lotor, you’re extremely distracted today. I’m not the only one who’s worried either.”

“You guys don’t have to worry about me doing stuff like that! It was another point in my life. It was in the past, and I don’t want to think about it! I’m better now.”

“Lance, it’s not about that—”

“You know what? Fine.” Lance curled his fingers around the hems of his sleeves and yanked them up to his elbows one at a time, revealing skin wounded not by his own hand. Angry red marks ran up and down his arms, and a bracelet of purple decorated his wrist, evidence of the more unfortunate events of not only Lotor’s stay, but Lotor himself.

“Lance, what happened?!” Shiro exclaimed, pulling his arms closer into view, “Lotor did this?”

He yanked his arms back. “It’s fine.”

“No. It’s not fine.”

“It was just a fight. He lost his temper, he apologized, I forgave him, it’s done and over with.”

“Until it happens again.”

“It won’t happen again. He’s getting better.”

“Lance—”

He held up his right hand, palm facing Shiro, “I don’t want to hear it. I just want to have a good time celebrating Hunk’s birthday and seeing Pidge before she goes back to college tomorrow. I don’t want to talk about this.”

Shiro sighed, then replied, “I still don’t agree with your choices right now.”

“You don’t have to. That’s why they’re mine. I get to choose, and I choose to reconcile with Lotor.”

“I’m not going to convince you otherwise, am I?”

“No.”

The beginnings of a frown lined Shiro’s face, and for a moment, a pang of guilt reached his chest, pulling at his heart as if it had hands of its own. Because it was evident, Shiro did care. He cared a lot. Every word inserted into that conversation had been from a place of heartache and worry. Yet, all Lance had done was thrown each reaching hand back with harsh words. The actions of a terrible friend.

Because he was one. Selfish, horrible, worthless. The three best words to describe him now and forever.

Lotor was lying. It was not only him that cared. Shiro’s heart was there for him, too. Shiro wanted him to be okay, wanted him to succeed.

But Lance did not deserve it.

No. Not when he had finished their conversation without another word, turning his back and returning to the table. Not when he could take every word that had been said to him and ignore it.

Shiro deserved better.

He slipped back into his seat with the rest of the group, listening to them chatter away amongst themselves.

He did not deserve them either.

No. He should clarify.

He did not deserve anyone.

 

* * *

 

Faint vibrations against his nightstand played tug-of-war with his mind’s pleas for sleep. His mind screamed for rest as his overactive body begged to reach over for the object of its desires. Slowly, his eyes resigned their fight alongside his mind, sliding open and focusing on the text that lit up his phone screen.

Memelord420  
  
Hey Lance. Suuuuper last minute, but are you free today?  
  


He read it over once more, then tapped out a response.

Memelord420  
  
Sure. What’s up?  
  
I know the last thing you want right now is another responsibility, but I have a favor I really need from you.  
  


Of course the first text he received on his day off was about something someone needed from him. Not like anyone could just let him relax for a few hours before asking. It had to be somewhere around three in the morning, and he was  _ already _ getting asked to do favors for people. The day had not even started and here he was continuing to make plans in his mental schedule. His eyes wandered from the message in question and to the top of his dimly lit screen.  _ 4:07 a.m. _

Well, apparently the day was pretty damn close to starting and had just not told Lance any of its plans to do so. His eyes flashed over the time once again, and he resigned his battle to rest. In less than two hours, it would officially be a new day for most people. No point in trying now. His thumbs tapped out a message to his friend.

Memelord420  
  
What do you need?  
  


He plopped the device onto his chest, focusing his pupils on the only remaining light source in the room, the LED light clock that sat on a bookshelf. It needed to be reset, and the batteries probably changed to bring it back to its full, original brightness, but the object was somehow comforting to have, as if it was a small ray of light that kept the darker demons away.

His phone vibrated against his chest, and he scooped it back into his grip.

Memelord420  
  
So I’ve been up with Shiro for the last two hours, because he had a REALLY nasty night terror. He’s doing a bit better now, but I have to leave to drive Katie back to school in a few hours. It’s going to be an all day trip at best, and I don’t feel comfortable leaving Shiro alone like this. Do you mind hanging around the apartment today to keep an eye on him?  
  
Yeah. Sure. But isn’t Keith there?  
  


The soft sound of feet entered the room, inching closer and closer, until they continued onto his comforter. A body of white fur came into his vision moments before his skin made physical contact. She padded up further, until she plopped onto his right shoulder, curling up into almost a ball and pressing her softness into Lance’s neck. When his fingers worked their magic against her cheek, Blue let out a content purr. With his other hand, he navigated around his injured finger to read Matt’s response.

Memelord420  
  
Yeah, he is, but I don’t exactly feel comfortable leaving Keith as a caretaker.  
  
Why not?  
  
He’s not exactly… there. Like, physically, yeah. But mentally, no. He kinda just sleeps all the time, and when he is awake he just doesn’t want to do much. Plus, Shiro doesn’t recognize his voice during his PTSD attacks, so I don’t know what Keith would do if Shiro got triggered into an attack today. But Shiro knows your voice, so if something happens, it’ll be okay if you’re there.  
  
When do you need me over there?  
  
About 6 am is ideal.  
  
I’ll do my best.  
  
See you in a bit.  
  


Okay, that was a lie. He barely needed to try at all to get there on time. It was not as if he was going to go to sleep for an hour and wake up. He was better off staying awake for over twenty-four hours than he was attempting to run on only one hour of rest. Accepting the fact that he would not be getting any sleep due to the curse that was called insomnia, he scooped Blue into his arms and rose from under his comforter. His body called for him to move, to do  _ something _ , so he might as well clean the litter box and feed the closest thing he would probably ever have to a daughter.

Well, if Blue counted as his daughter, then he had a pretty damn good daughter. She cuddled him almost every other night, except when Lotor was around. Whenever the other man took up space within the house, she always made a point to hide and be out of view. As strange as the behavior was for her, Lance had always let it slide. Lotor  _ had _ been gone for a while, so maybe she just thought of him as a new person and was just being shy. Regardless, the amount of cuddles that he received from Blue was more than many dads would get from their teenage daughters. Either Blue was a great daughter, or he was a great dad.

Lance liked to think both.

He traveled to the first floor, navigating the hallway, and stopped in the kitchen. He lowered Blue onto the tiled floor and gathered the necessary components of her meal. Quickly but carefully mixing it all together, he scraped it into her elevated, white and black ceramic bowl. Taking a moment first to call Blue to her meal, Lance stepped out to toss a mix of litter and excrement into the trash before returning to the room. 

The cold tiles instructed his feet to find a shield from the discomfort, but his exhaustion barred him from caring enough to do so. He sat himself down at one of the wooden chairs surrounding the kitchen table, his eyes watching his cat silently enjoying her food, hoping to eat away at the extra hour that he had. Food crossed his mind, his instincts reminding him of the necessity of the action. Yet, he ignored it, dismissing it as an action that took too much energy to complete versus the amount of pleasure he received in return. The energy needed to prepare something that would only come to his palate as bland and repulsive. Then again,  _ anything _ that he put in his mouth seemed to be unappetizing these days.

To be fair, he used to love cooking. He would spend hours in the kitchen with his mother learning different recipes and foods that she knew how to make. When mental illness interfered in his ability to keep up a functioning social life, he could always retreat to the kitchen where his ingredients expected nothing extravagant from him, only to be cooked into whatever he could imagine at the moment. His memories of his family get togethers had always placed him in the kitchen alongside his titi and grandmother, training their little chef-to-be. Even in his own house, remembering the days when it had been Keith’s second home, the two of them would hang out in the kitchen after their classes had ended for the day. Lance would try a new recipe or maybe even something old that he had decided he would try to recreate and Keith tasting and attempting to help in anyway that he could. His head would always poke over Lance’s shoulder to watch his then-boyfriend’s actions on the counter, a slightly confused look taking over his face as he observed Lance’s quick and confident movements.The other boy had never felt such a passion for the activity, but his boyfriend did, so he was going to try and do what he could to learn to love it too. The day Lance had asked Keith if he could teach him how to make some traditional Korean foods is the one where Lance would never forget the joy Keith tried so hard to hide, so he would not be called cute by his affectionate boyfriend. 

He used to love cooking. The way it made him feel so close to the ones around him and reminded him so much of home. The way it could ease his worries and remind him that college was supposed to be a second home to him, not ripping him away from his first one. He could use it to share his culture with his new roommate, and Hunk could share his in turn in one common language through it. The kitchen had at one point been his favorite spot in any house. By the end of their first semester rooming together, both of them dreamed of their upperclassmen years, a time when they could live in the apartment style living dorms and have a kitchen of their own to use, kissing the small and cramped communal one of their large dormitory goodbye.

He had still loved cooking when he started his relationship with Lotor, too. The morning after he had met him, Lance had been shocked to realize his choices of the night before. Nonetheless, he seemed to be a nice enough guy, and Lance made sure to cook him breakfast before he left. He prefered to eat in rather than out, attempting to impress his new boyfriend with his ability to recreate foods that he knew Lotor would love.

But that praise never came.

No, instead came small comments, each one meant to eat away at him in a way that he could not see. Ones about how he spent too much time worrying about food, how he ate too much, how he wasted his whole life on a stupid hobby that no one needed. Then more, more about how he should not be eating that snack, since he ate earlier, about how his body was full of imperfections, about how he could fix them by giving up the one thing helping him remember home when he was so far away.

And he let it get him.

It started with minuscule things. Second guessing the amount he should eat, gravitating away from the kitchen, cutting portion sizes of the meals he did make. Yet, it grew. First, went the snacks from energy bars, to fruit, to nothing. Next came the state of his lunch, from a sandwich, to a granola bar, to nothing. And soon, breakfast was in the same scenario, and found itself to be nothing more than an apple and a bottle of water.  

Thinking back, it had not been necessarily intentional. He just had no motivation. It was as if the fact that consuming enough food was not something that his brain was aware of. Every opportunity to eat was placed in front of him, yet it jogged nothing at all. Even the day Hunk had made his absolute favorite Cuban foods as a surprise, raising the fork into his mouth proved to be more of a struggle than a pleasure. Food was easier to leave than to eat.

So that is exactly what he did.

Pounds dropped off him and clothes no longer fit. The ability to care seemed to be devoid in his body, as all he did was throw on a sweatshirt and wrapped a belt around whatever pants refused to stay around his thinning waist. The words  _ eating disorder _ crossed his mind multiple times, yet every search hit a dead end with criteria that did not fit him and building anxiety about what the fuck was wrong with him.

The first day he fainted he had hit his head on the towel rack in his and Hunk’s room. Hunk had gotten campus safety to take them both to the hospital that night. Luckily, he had not received a concussion, but he was cursed with a pretty nasty and visible bump on his head for a few weeks. For some reason, the event had not phased him. It just seemed more and more normal each time it happened, as if it was a natural part of life. 

He should have known otherwise, when he realized he was the only one suffering from fainting spells in his life.

Yet, it continued. The insults came back and his stomach turned at the mere thought of food. The comments encouraging him to hate what used to be one of his favorite things turned into jabs about how disgusting he was for avoiding something so crucial to his well-being. 

And he believed it.

He believed everything that came out of Lotor’s mouth. He still did honestly. Every time the other man’s mouth opened, the only thing he could hope for was praise, approval that never came and never would come. When Lotor was happy, he got to be happy. When Lotor experienced any other emotion… well Lance took the brunt of the fall out. And food? Well food  _ always _ elicited negative emotions by the end.

He remembered the first time he made himself throw up. Hastily shoving a finger down his own throat and watching the contents of his last meal settle in the toilet bowl. His mouth felt gross, but his emotions thanked him. He wanted to hurt. He wanted to damage himself. He deserved it all, everything that came along with the new habit he had created. He could never decide if this was better or worse than taking a blade to his skin, but at least this way no scars remained on his body. All evidence was easily flushed away, hiding his dark actions and desires. It was so much easier to accomplish, so much easier to hide this way. No one needed to know.

Except people did know.

The day Hunk overheard him making wretched sounds within the metal walls of the stall that confined him was one of the worst days of his life. He cursed Hunk’s nosiness and their dorm room’s proximity to the bathroom. He met his roommate’s gaze with shaking hands and tears in his eyes as he found himself spending the night explaining his reasons and fighting the idea that his actions had the root of body image issues. Hours of sobbing and hyperventilation lead to nothing but more urges to destroy himself and his work remaining unfinished through the night. Leaving marks on his skin never seemed like a better alternative to the secrecy that came with hugging the dirty porcelain behind a locked door than it had at that moment.

Then, it all stopped. He stopped too.

Everything slowed. Days crawled by as the line where the ceiling and the wall met became his only view for numbers of hours that poured into double digits. Glued to his mattress, unable to gather his ability to move classes and dining periods passed, the campus and mess halls lived on without his presence. Leaving Lance with days that no longer had a distinct start and end. The only significant events that confirmed that the blur of time continued on were Hunk taking his moments of leisure to remind Lance that he still had a friend and when Lotor dropped jeers and mocked his crumbling ability to function. Because his work ability was nothing. His life was nothing. He had been in bed for weeks, had not attended classes for even longer. So far behind in his academics, that the extreme solutions in his head seemed to be the only way to go. No brushing of teeth. No showers. No food. No more than five minutes where his feet touched the ground. Nothing. Just like his life, until he was shoved into a hospital and shoved out afterwards just to find himself in a job that reminded him of everything in the last five years.

They said he was better.

That was what he had thought too, honestly. Coming home would be a new start, fixing what he thought he had messed up on his own. No school, no boyfriend, and a new job. Yet, day in and day out he could see everyone enjoying the things that revolted his mind and stomach as if the job itself was made to taunt him. 

He would never see a kitchen the same way again.

Yeah, he hated food.

 


	13. Chapter 13

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lance never thought he should be playing therapist, especially when he couldn't see one consistently himself. Yet, here he was. Trying his hardest to solve everyone's problems but his own.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ahhhhhhhh, sorry I'm a week late! Life has been very hectic for me lately! I just got done with midterms and I'm scheduled for surgery on my knee next week. But, I hope the fact that this chapter is longer than usual can make up for it all!
> 
> Trigger warning for mentions of self harm and implied deadnaming/misgendering.

He shuffled on his feet. Left, right, left, right, left, right. The restlessness oozing from his body took hold, as he tried to fight off the menace named anxiety building in his body. A hand reached into his coat pocket, retrieving his iPhone. His fingers tapped in and out of random apps, as he busied his mind during his wait in front of the large elevator doors. 

By the time he reached his destination, Pidge would be packed and ready to get on her way. Her suitcase was most likely already in Matt’s car, prepared for the long trip back to her school. One she would not be returning from until March. Two whole months where one of his best friends would be physically gone, only returning for a week before heading off once more to progress her life beyond what Lance ever could.

The sliding doors made way for him, and his feet carried him through the familiar hallways that he had traveled more times than he could count. On most days, it was a comforting trip, one that planted excitement in his bones and grew a smile onto his face. Yet today, it was bittersweet. Pidge leaving for two months, Shiro suffering from severe anxiety, and Keith having God knows what up with him. That was what today was about to be.

He did not know if he was ready for it.

He rapped the knuckles of his good hand on the wooden door that separated Matt and Shiro’s apartment from the hallway and waited for a response. The door swung inwards, and Pidge stood in the doorframe. Clad in an old sweatshirt with a hole above the rightmost side of the elastic at the bottom and a pair of yoga pants. Her hair was pulled back into a messy bun, and the bags under her eyes were darker than ever.

“Long night?”

“No shit. And you don’t look a hundred percent yourself. How much did you sleep last night?”

“Not at all.”

“Lance.”

“Hey, I didn’t chose to be an insomniac.”

“Fair enough.”

“Where’s everyone else?”

“Matt and Shiro are in Shiro’s room, and Keith is on the couch.”

Rising onto the balls of his feet, Lance peered over the object in question. Pidge was right. There was Keith, dead asleep in the room, despite the conversation.

Well, at least he may only have to worry about Shiro for the day in that case.

He padded over to the other side of the apartment. The door to Shiro’s room stood open by a crack. Blue eyes wandered into the sliver of light, revealing Shiro lying in a tangle of bed sheets and a comforter. Matt sat to the side of him, hand slowly caressing the right side of his face. Soft whispers were exchanged between them, and Shiro took Matt’s hand into his own, gently pressing his lips to the other man’s fingers and knuckles. It felt too intimate, as if Lance had intruded on something that was not meant to be seen by another pair of eyes.

He took a step away. 

Energy focusing on figuring out what else he could do around the apartment at the current hour, he stepped back into the living room. Keith’s sleeping form occupied one section of the L-shaped couch. Covered in two thick blankets, his head and arms protruded out from underneath. His hair separated into large sections, held together by natural grease and completed with a dull shine. The upper half of his arms were clothed by an olive sweater, sleeves scrunched up to his elbows. His exposed skin came into view, blemished with lightened circular marks obviously from at least a year of the same secret activities Lance had witnessed him do in Matt’s car only days ago. A few select marks had settled on an angry red, with one sporting a blister and a few others that had begun to scab over. The sight urged him to grab some bandages. No matter his and Keith’s official friendship standing, no one deserved to let wounds such as those slowly become infected.

“He won’t be in your hair much.” Pidge spoke as she sat down next to Lance, “He pretty much just sleeps and wakes up to smoke for a bit. He might watch some TV, but he can never decide on what channel to watch. So, he usually just goes back to sleep. I know he makes you anxious, but I promise you’ll barely notice him.”

“He does nothing at all?” Lance inquired.

“Not really. Honestly, the only times he’s really done anything at all is when Shiro made him leave the house with him, and when he went to go meet you at The Grind. He wakes up for a bit at night sometimes after sleeping for so long, but otherwise he’s out like a light for the most part.”

“Has he gone to a doctor about it? He could be sick.”

“He doesn’t want to. He’s not insured either, so paying for that would cost him an arm and a leg too.”

“Shiro and Matt can’t lend him any money?”

“You know he’s really independent. He doesn’t want to lean on people.”

“It’s not that… it’s that he doesn’t know how, I guess.”

“I’ve noticed.”

The man in question stirred, as if he had woken. The two sitting by his head froze with baited breath, afraid that purple eyes would slowly open with a mouth ready to state that he did not appreciate the statements made about him, as if he had not been lying in front of them. Then he turned and curled his body closer to itself.

Once all movement ceased from the third body on the sofa, the remaining two let the tension in their bodies release. Lance curled his fingers around the soft fabric draped over Keith’s body and pulled it up, covering everything below his neck that had been previously exposed.

“I know Shiro, I know. But I have to take her back. I'll call you every hour while I'm on the road.” Matt’s voice came from the hallway. When Shiro’s expressions did not budge, Matt spoke again, “I’ll call you for the entire drive home. Deal?”

Shaking arms pulled Matt closer, drawing him into a bare, broad chest. The two stood together, holding onto one another for several minutes, or maybe longer. All Lance knew for sure was that the embrace between the two lasted longer than a moment, and he could only imagine the lack of comfort it brought the taller of the two.

“I should Skype mom before we go.” Pidge pulled her phone out from its temporary home between her hip and the elastic band holding her pants in place. She tapped the screen a few times and switched on her bluetooth headphones that dangled around her neck in a u-shape. Popping each bud into her ears, she rose the screen to her face and waited for another face to take over her phone screen.

“Are you sure you want to do this here?”

“Yeah, he won’t wake up.” Pidge dismissed before returning to her call.

Blue eyes wandered the room, leaving the younger of the two to the new conversation. Glowing eyes met his from the kitchen, reminding him of tasks beyond caring for Shiro. 

He really should make a list, but he could do it later.

The body next to his stirred once more, fingers unconsciously curling around the fabric covering itself. Yet, the motions did not quell, leaving Keith to the mercy of a restless body due to whatever his mind had convinced him was reality. The other man’s face turned, teeth biting away the skin of his lower lip and eyelids squeezing together. Bare hands released the blankets kept in his grasp, and a now free appendage reached toward the backrest of the couch. When he received nothing in his hand, it moved back to his chest underneath the fabric shielding him from the rest of the world.

Small mumbles fell from Keith’s mouth, too soft to make out every word. The speech seemed familiar, yet unknown at once. Only when the word  _ abeoji _ slipped from his lips did Lance realize that the only intelligible things that had been said were in Keith’s native tongue.

His hand reached out, then froze. Hand hovering hesitantly over the greasy and partially tangled mess of hair, he halted his urge to pull Keith’s head onto his lap. That was not his place anymore. He was not Keith’s boyfriend, and Keith was not his. He was not the person Keith confided in, and he did not confide in Keith. Keith made that clear to him the moment he told Lance he no longer loved him five years ago.

Keith’s body jerked. His leg kicked and the blanket was off.

He could not leave Keith like this. Confidant or not, it was not right. Keith did not deserve to tough this out. Whatever was tormenting him in his sleep would have to cease its wrath.

Lance placed his hand on Keith’s shoulder, gently rocking him into consciousness. Parting eyelids revealed purple eyes and an exhausted expression, coupled with a noise that would most likely have come out as words if he had been in any state but sleep. Black eyebrows furrowed, and his head picked up slightly off the cushion it had been resting on. When his eyes searched the room, Lance finally spoke to him.

“Go back to sleep. You were just having a bad dream.”

Keith’s eyes closed, and within moments, he was back under the sandman's spell. Lance pulled the blankets back over his body and gently cradled his head in his arm. He wedged a throw pillow between Keith and the couch before carefully lowering his head back down.

Something fell into his lap.

Pidge buried her face in his thigh, letting out a noise that could only be named as a mix of frustration and sadness.

“She forgot again, didn’t she?” When she nodded, he continued, “I’m sorry.”

“She started having a panic attack when she realized. I know it’s not on purpose, and that her memory is going with her medications, but it still hurts. Sometimes it seems like Matt is the only one in my entire family that makes the effort.”

“Well, I’m your honorary big brother now. So, you actually have two family members who support your transition now. Three if you’re going to count Shiro too.”

A smile cracked on her face, “Thanks, but don’t you think it would be awkward if he was?”

“No?”

“Oh, really? You think  _ that’s _ platonic?” She nodded her head toward Shiro and Matt as she spoke.

“Are they a thing?” Had they not been together this whole time? Did they just not tell him? He probably was the last on their list to tell. No. More likely not on their list at all. He was not important enough to tell. Or maybe they secretly hated him? Every phone call and late night text where Lance poured out overwhelming emotions had probably only fueled negative emotions to the point that the two men in question most likely gossiped about him afterwards. He seemed to do that to a lot of people, and one of them was currently lying next to him.

“I don’t know. I’m going to be angry if they’re not. They’ve slept in Shiro’s room together every night for the last week, and I know it’s not to make this place less congested, because Keith is still sleeping on the couch. I’m asking Matt on the drive today.”

Alright, so  _ maybe _ it was not something directed at him.

Or it could be, and Matt was going to tell Pidge during the drive, so everyone could keep it a secret from him. 

“Ready to go Katie?” Matt interrupted.

She picked up her head, assuring him that she was. Turning around, she hugged Lance as a final goodbye before promising him that her and Hunk would have a Skype call with him in the next few days. 

And with that, the door shut behind them. Shiro was in his room, Keith dead asleep on the couch, and his only remaining company was Batman. Okay, he barely counted, because that cat ignores you then begs for attention as soon as you return the favor.

At least he could do some self care and chores while he waited for human companionship.

He made a trip to the shower, stripping down and turning the water to its highest. Washing himself at this temperature could not be good for his hair and skin but neither was avoiding food. He would be a hypocrite for complaining now. Sometimes he wondered if years of hurting himself with boiling water when he bathed had lead to his ability to only feel comfortable when the water was abnormally hot. Even when he did not feel like shit, he managed to find himself bathing in water much too hot.

Or maybe he just always felt like shit. It would not surprise him in any way. Honestly, it would just make a lot of sense.

He shut off the water, dried and redressed himself. Padding over to the kitchen, he quickly checked his notifications and flipped on the light above the oven, needlessly afraid of awaking Keith. He scavenged the fridge, eventually pulling out enough food to create a decent breakfast for two that would not kill Keith. They had issues, but murder was a bit much. Mixing vanilla, eggs, cinnamon, and milk together, careful that what he was adding was actually lactaid milk, he eyed the bread lying on the counter beside him. He poured the mixture onto the bottom of the pan before him, plopping the food in question into it.

Soft meows echoed throughout the kitchen area, calling for Lance’s attention. Leaving the stove unattended, he retrieved the cat food from one of the cabinets. Batman pressed up against his legs, “Yeah, yeah. I know. If you ignore me after this, I’ll make you wait until someone else feeds you next time.” Filling the black cat’s bowl with nutrients, he was faced with his exact fears. It was as if no longer existed. Batman had abandoned him in favor of the now full ceramic. 

Rolling his blue eyes, Lance refocused on the meal from before. Quickly preparing eggs to go with the french toast, he slid both objects onto two plates. Leaving both meals on the counter to cool for a moment, he ambled toward Shiro’s room. He hit the wooden door with three firm knocks, announced the meal and turned to wake Keith. Stirring the other into consciousness in a similar manner as he had done earlier, he was met once more today with sleep-filled purple eyes.

“Breakfast.”

Keith made a soft noise in response.

“Well, are you going to get up Mr. Sleepy Head?”

“Soon…”

“If you say so. But if you’re not there in five minutes I’m feeding your food to the cat.” 

“Mmm…” 

Another voice entered the equation from behind them, “Keith, you have to wake up.” 

“Shut up Takashi.” Keith replied, a tone of exhaustion coating his voice.

“No. You can’t sleep your day away again.”

“I didn’t yesterday.”

“That’s because I made you leave. And you went right back to sleep afterwards.”

Keith let out a frustrated noise, “So what?”

“Did you shower when we got back?”

“No.”

“You promised you would. Did you at least change?”

“Why do you care Takashi?”

“Because you either see a psychiatrist, or you pick yourself up. You can’t just do nothing for the rest of your life. So, did you change?”

Keith rolled his eyes, “No.”

“Wait! Keith, did you sleep in your binder?” Lance pitched in, concern etched in his voice.

“We’re not even friends, Lance. It doesn’t matter. You shouldn’t care.”

“Yes, it does! And I’m still going to care if you’re hurting yourself! Did you sleep in your binder?”

“So what if I did?”

“Okay, it’s coming off right now Keith. Your chest needs a break.”

“No!” Keith snapped.

“Keith, if you don’t take it off, you’re going to hurt yourself more. You can fracture a rib if you’re not being safe.”

“Who cares if I hurt myself?”

“I do! Shiro does! Do you think this is what your dad would want for you?”

“Why does it fucking matter what he wants? He’s fucking dead.”

“But—”

“No. He’s fucking dead. That’s all there fucking is to it. He drank himself to death, because my mom was a bitch and left his son with no family that wanted him.”

“Keith, stop it right now. Shiro’s family did a lot for you. You always said they were just as much family to you as your own biological family. And your mom had no control over dying Keith.”

“Well, guess what! They’re dead too! And, oh boy, my mom is a bigger bitch than you’d ever think, because no one ever had the fucking guts to tell me the truth about her.”

“ _ Keith _ .” Shiro said sternly.

Okay, he needed to defuse this conversation.

“We got in a fucking car crash! They’re dead, and you lost your arm! People die Takashi! It happens!”

Shaking hands snatched Keith’s jacket from the cushion it had been unceremoniously draped over, chucking it across the room at the man in question, “If that’s your attitude, then sort yourself out on your own!” And with that Shiro was gone, spending his time in retreat at the kitchen table.

“Fine! Leave me! Just like everyone else has!”

His throat got tight, as if something or someone had a grip on it. Each word was as if the invisible hand on his neck grew stronger.

“No, Keith. That’s you! You’re the one pushing away everyone who wants to help you!” Shiro’s fingers threaded through his hair, tugging at his bangs. Each pull seemingly more violent.

The voices grew louder with each heated reply.

“You just told me to get out!”

Or maybe it was in his head?

“That’s not what I said at all!”

No. It was all around him. The room caving in, threatening to trap him, hold him down, and refuse to let him go.

“Bullshit!”

He needed it to stop.

“Talk to me when you’re being rational.” Shiro retorted before turning his back toward his adoptive brother.

Keith let out a frustrated yell into the fabric, before throwing it onto the hardwood floor.

Well, it was barely eight in the morning, and he had already failed his first job. In fact, he had managed to not only mess up, but hyperventilate while doing so. This is exactly why he was doomed to working at the restaurant for his entire life. He messed up every time he was given responsibility.

Matt should not have trusted him. 

He had no choice but to try and fix this somehow. His eyes flickered from Keith, to Shiro several times. His first visual had his ex-boyfriend curled into himself on his side, fists clenched and face aimed toward the back of the couch, leaving his back to Shiro’s vision. On the other side of apartment, in the kitchen that was barely even a separate room from the living room, sat Shiro. The man had a visible tremor to his body and the faint noise of short breaths could be heard. To the untrained ear, it meant nothing, but to Lance, he knew all too well what it really meant for someone like Shiro.

He would talk to Shiro, then Keith. As angry as the latter seemed to be, he could manage on his own. As for Shiro? Well, with the report Matt had given Lance only hours before, it probably was for the best to give an outburst, such as that, attention.

His feet followed Shiro’s path from moments earlier. He seated himself in the chair across from his friend. Met with the image of Shiro’s face resting in his left hand, body shaking with the same tremors he himself had become familiar with throughout his life. Heavy breathing filled the space between them. Whether it was from the man across from him or his own lungs was another question that he did not have time to consider. “Shiro…”

Shiro’s index and middle fingers parted, and a dark eye peeked through the opening.

“Are you okay?”

“Not really.”

He frowned, “Can I help?”

The glass balcony door slid open, allowing Keith to escape to the outside world with a lighter in one hand and a pack of cigarettes in the other. Once it had shut again, as if the sound of the doorframe taking impact had created a new idea with how to cope with his issues, Shiro spoke, voice hitting weak points every now and then, “I don’t know what to do with him anymore. I can’t just tell him to find somewhere else to go but being around him lately hasn’t been good for me either.”

“You’re assuming I have any idea what’s been going on. I’m completely lost.”

“I don’t want any of this to affect how you see Keith.”

“So what if it does? I have enough opinions about him already.”

Shiro sighed.

“Well?”

“I never told you any of this, alright?”

“Yep. Got it.”

“Keith came back with some… medical issues? And he wasn’t doing well mentally with any of it. I offered him a place to stay for a while, because he’s my brother, blood or not. He’s the only family I have left, I can’t just tell him he’s on his own. He doesn’t deserve that either. So when that was all cleared up, I asked him what he wants to do. Where he wants to go. He told me that he didn’t know, that he wasn’t sure and just needed to figure himself out for a bit. So, I told him he has a home here until he got back on his feet and figured everything out. I didn’t think  _ this _ would be what figuring things out meant.”

“Is he like this all the time?”

“Not exactly. He gets like that easily sometimes but in the way where you can blow up at some points. He’s just… he only sleeps, then wakes up here and there for a snack or to smoke. Talking with him is even more difficult than trying to change his living habits. Sometimes he’s okay, but he can switch so quickly too. His abandonment issues are worse than ever, but he won’t talk about any of it. I think something happened to him since he’s been gone, but you know him. He’s tight lipped when he doesn’t want to talk.”

“Okay, but he needs a psychiatrist if that’s what you think the problem is.” When he was met with a look as if Shiro was telling him to think over the words that had just come out of his mouth, he spoke again, “Point taken.”

“I want to be there for him. I do. More than anything. But I can’t deal with all the negativity. We got in an argument the other day, and I told him that, if he can’t start trying to fix himself, then he has to find somewhere else to go. I don’t want to kick him out, but I don’t know how to give him incentive to do anything about himself.”

“I mean, does he  _ only _ sleep? Or does he just lie there a lot too?”

“Both. And the environment wasn’t good for Katie either. With everything happening with her and Matt’s mom, the whole point of her living here was supposed to be that we were removing her from stress. Not putting her back into it.”

“He told me he was planning to leave once his bike got fixed.”

“I think that was his plan when he started, then he just shut down.”

“Does he do anything when he’s awake?” He paused before speaking again, “Does he draw at all?”

“He tore up some old sketches the other day when he was upset.”

“Has he done anything recently?”

“Art? No.”

He could feel the frown creep up on his face, pulling his lips downwards. Whenever Keith had gotten his hands on art materials during their adolescence, his eyes had lit up so bright the stars would have competition. Every completed piece Keith showed off to him, and every art show Lance went out of his way to attend for him had brought out a smile like nothing other on the man in question. 

To think that those purple eyes would not widen in the same way again, that those lips would not curl into that same smile, that Keith has given up on art completely. It hurt. It hurt a lot. The idea that Keith had seemingly just abandoned a passion of his that brought him so much happiness, so much life, was as if a little piece of Keith died too.

Before he could process his own impulsive speech, a string of words had already left his lips, “Do you want me to talk to him?”

“You don’t have to Lance. I know Keith’s been a source of anxiety for you recently.”

He could back out. Avoid this conversation and let the two of them sort out their issues on their own.

No. As much as he looked up to Shiro and turned to him with his problems when he needed someone to lean on, this situation was never going to be solved without an outside party getting involved. 

“No. Don’t worry, I’ll do it.” He stood up from his seat, “Start eating, and I’ll be back in a few minutes.”

“Thanks. You’re a good friend, Lance.”

His lips curled upwards, “Yeah, well, what goes around comes around I guess.” With that, he turned and made his way toward the balcony. 

The crisp air outside was laced with the ashy smell of cigarette smoke. The faint scent of pine trees mixed in, tying it all together. It was relaxing and familiar. Honestly, it smelled a bit like home, like Keith.

And in that moment, he was pressed against him, close to him in the same way that had been not too long ago in the back of Matt’s car. Keith’s arms around his waist, and his own arms around Keith’s neck. Relaxed, he pressed his face into the crook of Keith’s neck, breathing in the other man’s scent. It was warm. Homey. Safe. With those two arms around his body, nothing in the world could hurt him.

The bitter January cold ripped him back into reality. It nipped at his exposed skin, and he cursed his inability to think ahead of his actions. His jacket was right there inside, but no. He decided to walk right past it on his way into the below freezing temperature. Smart.

His eyes rested on Keith, clad in the same olive green sweater from yesterday’s dinner. His right hand held his cigarette, while his left kept occupied with his lighter, switching it on and off, purple eyes oddly focused on the reappearing and disappearing flame. Visibly unkempt hair clashed with the rest of his look, how his outfit seemed so put together.

Shiro probably picked it out for him.

Keith’s weight leaned against the railing, his back to the balcony as if he was attempting to avoid what was inside. His sweater complimented his frame, showing off his chest, which only confirmed Lance’s fears of Keith falling back into old habits with his binding. The jeans covering his lower half kept a loose outline of the shape of his legs, unlike the way his usual skinny jeans or yoga pants hugged his figure.

Lance bit his lip, wishing Keith had opted for one of the previous two options in his current attire. He hated himself for the part of him that longed to see the way the tight fabrics defined Keith’s legs and backside, and, even without the visual, he desired it so badly that his gaze stuck to those sensitive body parts. 

He really needed to slap himself.

Him and Keith were nothing, and they had nothing. There was no place anymore for thoughts of that nature. He was out here to talk to Keith, not check him out and lowkey fantasize about the ability to be in close proximity to him once more. In fact, his mind should not be going there  _ at all _ . His relationship with Keith failed already. There was no point in attempting to rekindle something that had been dead and gone for years.

But, was that not what he had been doing with Lotor this entire time? His entire friendship, relationship, or whatever one would label his interactions with Lotor as, was nothing but trying to revive what was gone. Yet, it was also on an entirely different level, because Lotor wanted him. Keith left him, filled him with feelings of worthlessness through the action. Lance left Lotor, and over a year later, Lotor still wanted him. The initial relationship had been bumpy, yes, but Lotor had worked on himself since then. Together they could figure it out. If Lotor could still care for him now, then it was worth any effort to mend what they could.

He stepped closer, “Hey buddy.” Purple irises met his face for a moment, then turned back to the view off the balcony. “Do you want to come eat? I made food.”

No response, only a small movement of Keith’s shoulders that may or may not have been a shrug.

“Can we talk then?”

Keith did not turn towards him, “Why?”

“Well, why not?”

“You’re the one who says you don’t want to be around me.”

“And you said we’re not friends. So, don’t go and blame it all on me.”

“Why would you care in the first place anyway?”

“Maybe because you’re Shiro’s brother still, or that you’re in my life again now whether I like it or not. Or maybe it’s because I’m not as much as an asshole that you want to think I am, and I don’t like seeing people upset.” When Keith had no response again, he continued, “So, can we talk?”

“What’s there to talk about?”

“For starters, that big fight back there. You feeling okay?”

“It doesn’t matter.”

“Well Shiro thinks it does. So can we talk about it?”

“Then why isn’t Shiro out here?”

“Keith, you know the answer to that question.”

“No. I don’t.”

“Keith.”

“I’m serious, Lance! No one tells me jack shit! I came back and all I know is you’re seeing someone who’s not treating you well at all, Shiro isn’t over the accident, and that I constantly feel like shit!”

“Let’s take a breather.”

“No! I don’t want to!”

“Alright,” Lance leaned his back on the railing next to Keith, “Then what  _ do _ you want?”

“I…” Keith paused, as if he needed to actually think about what he felt he so desperately needed, “I don’t know…”

“Then let’s try my suggestion until you can figure it out. Sound good?”

Keith gave him a small nod. His eyes fell to the ground as he tuned his senses into his own breathing.

“Can we put out the cigarette for now?”

“I’m not going to do what I did in the car.”

“I trust you.” He lied, “But, my lungs are smoke free, and they’d love it if they could stay that way.”

Keith hesitated until Lance brought the white ceramic ashtray closer. He pressed the cigarette into it, watching the flame die out.

“You said not knowing what’s going on is bothering you, right?” Keith nodded, and Lance continued speaking, “How about you ask me what you want to know, and I can help you?”

“Are you sure?”

“Yeah. I mean, if it’s not my business to tell I won't say anything, but yeah, if I can help, I’ll help.”

“What’s going on with Shiro? I get that the thought of something like the accident can make him anxious, but he goes completely off his rocker. He were watching a movie the other day, the cars crashed on screen, and he completely shut down. Matt tried to hold his hand, and he was pulling away from him during it. And then he bikes to work Lance. It’s an hour bike ride, and he does it in all weather, all because he absolutely refuses to use any kind of transport. It took Matt two hours to prepare him just to get in the car yesterday, and he still freaked out.”

“PTSD.”

“How do I help him? I feel like I can’t do anything for him.”

“It’s not that simple. When he gets in those mindsets where he panics, he has a hard time distinguishing things if that makes sense? Certain voices that he hears a lot he’ll know, like mine and Matt’s. Otherwise, he won’t know who’s talking to him and that can freak him out. You’ve been gone a while, so he’s not used to hearing your voice.”

“So, I’m useless.”

“That’s not true.”

“Then what am I supposed to do?”

“You can’t help him in an episode, but you can help him with daily anxieties and not intentionally triggering him. And I know you have a good idea of what to avoid.”

“I’m an ass, aren’t I?”

“For bringing it all up while fighting with him? Yeah, kinda.”

Keith let out a pained noise, “Why am I like this?”

“I’m a shitty person too, Keith. Don’t take it harshly.”

“Who told you that one?”

“My own conclusion.”

“No. Someone fed you that one.”

“People change a lot in five years, Keith.”

“Not like that. You’ve never been a bad person. You genuinely care about the people around you. I don’t know who convinced you otherwise, but they’re wrong.”

It was not that Keith’s words were inedible. No, he could certainly take them in. Were they digestible though? No. Once they had been down for a few moments, his body was regurgitating them, unable to keep them in his stomach. “No, they really aren’t.”

“Who told you that you’re a bad person? Was it that guy you’re seeing? Lotor, right?”

“Look, I’m not really seeing him…”

“Why do you keep him in your life at all?”

“I don’t really know, okay? There’s just a lot of history between us that no one really gets but us. We’re trying to work things out.”

“I don’t like that.”

“And that’s why it’s my life and my decision.”

“So you want to date him?”

“I’d rather be friends instead… but I guess if it goes to dating, I can deal with it.”

“That’s not healthy.”

“Look at the pot calling the kettle black.”

“What?”

“I’m just saying you can’t call my actions unhealthy when you’re obviously not coping well yourself.”

Keith’s fingers snatched the hem of his own sleeve, pulling it further down his arm. 

“I already saw them Keith, it’s alright.” When Keith said nothing, Lance spoke once more. His tone was softer, more concerned, “Do you want to talk about it?”

“It’s fine… I’m fine…”

“Are you sure? It’s just us. I’m not here to judge you, it’s just that those look really uncomfortable. We could talk about why you do it.”

“I told you, I feel like shit. I deserve shit.”

“Is that why you did it?”

“Well, why do you do it?”

“I… I don’t know. I guess, I feel like I deserve it. I feel like I’m such a bad person, that I hurt people, and that I need to punish myself for it. Other times, I just do it. I just hate myself so much, so maybe that’s why? I don’t know.”

“How do you know yourself like that? I have no idea why I do anything at all and I hate it!” The end of his sentence transformed into a frustrated shout.

“I was in psychotherapy for a while.”

“It helped that much?”

“I don’t know to be honest. I’m more aware of why I do things, but not completely. Still depressed as all hell though.”

“Why did you stop?”

“Lotor wouldn’t let me go.”

“Woah, woah, woah. You’re telling me he refused to let you get help for your mental health? And you want to go back to that?!”

“It’s whatever. I’m doing fine without therapy anyway. I’m not self harming or anything, so it’s all good.”

“That’s not whatever! Lance, that’s really not okay!”

“It’s done and over now. Not much I can do about it.”

“You can stay away from him!”

“Look, it’s fine. Really, it is. I can take care of myself. And back to you, how long have you been burning yourself?”

“I… I started when my relationship started falling apart. So, I don’t know… maybe seven months ago?”

“Do you want to talk about that?”

“It’s just, I don’t fall in love easily. There was you, then there was him. That’s it. And I never like people like that either. I swear the only crushes I ever got were on you and him. I was stupid enough to jump into shit with him once he showed some interest. I hate myself for being like this!”

“Like what?”

“I don’t know. Whatever  _ this _ is.” Keith replied, gesturing to himself with his hands.

Lance frowned. “Did something happen with your ex?”

“He’s an asshole, that’s what happened.”

“We can talk about that.”

“I don’t want to.”

“That’s fine. You don’t have to.”

“Aren’t you hypocritical though? You won’t talk to me about anything, yet here you are asking me to talk about my life to you.”

“Hey, hey, hey. Hold up. I never pressed you on anything.”

“Yeah, but you want me to talk, and you always refuse.”

“Fine, fine. How about this? You tell me what’s on your mind right now. Then when you’re done, I’ll tell you about whatever it is you’re pissed off I’m not telling you. Deal?”

“Deal.”

“No, no, no. You have to pinky promise this.” Lance insisted, hands thrown up with him palms facing Keith.

“But I’m the one talking first? Why do you need to make sure I’m promising that I’ll talk? That makes no sense. We should just do it and get it over with.”

“No Keith, you misunderstand. This is so you can trust  _ me _ . I don’t want you to bullshit your answers because you think I’m not going to talk afterwards. I know you really need this, so I want it to actually be helpful for you.”

“Oh…” Keith’s body relaxed, “You don’t have to do that. I trust you.”

“I… you do?”

“Of course I do. You never gave me a reason not to.” Keith’s voice softened as he spoke, as if he felt the need to assure Lance of the fact.

He looked to the ground, barely fighting the involuntary upwards curl of his lips. “Well, I’m glad someone in my life thinks I’ve got a decent head on my shoulders. So, what’s on your mind?”

“I know how tired Shiro is of me and my bullshit.” 

“I wouldn’t say that.”

“It’s obvious. But it’s not like I don’t want to pick myself up. I just can’t. Everytime I think maybe I can sort myself out, I just remember how pointless everything is, and I lie back down. Like, what’s the point if all anyone does is leave, die, or abandon me. Who am I trying to fix myself for?”

“You could do it for yourself.”

“But I don’t want to do it for myself. I don’t care about myself.”

“You should.”

“What’s there to care about? No one even sees a reason to be around me.”

“Okay, that’s not true, and you know it.” 

“Really? Because my mom left me. How do you do that to your own kid?”

“Keith, she died. She can’t control that.”

“No, she didn’t! No one just had the guts to tell me the truth! She fucking left me!”

“What are you talking about?”

“She abandoned me Lance! She didn’t die. She just didn’t want to me in my life. She’s the reason my dad died too. He couldn’t handle the fact that she left him. Or… or maybe it was me… maybe he drank constantly, because he hated the fact he was stuck with me…”

“Keith…” He reached out to take Keith’s hand in his, hesitating just moments before. By the end of the action, he had only managed to hold Keith’s index finger gently within his own fingers.

And that is when he saw it, saw Keith’s eyes begin to water and his expression change. Keith’s voice broke with his next words, “He probably felt so trapped with a kid he didn’t want that he needed to drink to forget about the fact I exist…” His hands began to tremble as he blinked the first wetness from his eyes, “I-I literally was just an accident that my parents didn’t want. I ruined both their lives, then have the audacity to expect anything from them.”

“Keith, Keith, no.” 

“It’s true.”

“No, Keith. It’s not. Your dad loved you so much. He would’ve done anything for you, and you know that.”

“Then why was he always drunk at night? He came home from work, and he could barely wait a moment before he had booze in his hand. He had to have hated me, all I was was an anchor… He couldn’t do anything because I was around!”

“Sometimes people have problems they can’t solve on their own. Like, I couldn’t handle my depression and anxiety on my own, so I went to therapy, right?” 

Keith nodded.

“And you smoke, so you’re addicted to cigarettes, right?”

“Yeah…”

“Well, it’s like that. He had an addiction. He still loved you, even if he felt powerless against the bottle.”

“I guess…”

“Why don’t we think about the nice things your dad did for you, alright? Let’s name some.”

“When I was sad, he would always ask me what food I wanted, and he would always make it for me.”

“That’s good, that’s good, let’s think of another.”

“When I told him I’m trans, he helped me pick out a new name and bought me my first binder.”

“See. Tell me another one.”

“He would always take me out fishing or camping once a month in the summers.”

“He really did love you Keith.”

Keith sniffled and brought his right hand up to his face, wiping the water away.

“Do you want a hug? You can say no.” Keith nodded, and Lance stepped closer. He brought his arms around the other man, pressing closer and holding him firmly. Keith’s arms reached around his body, returning the embrace. And the two stood, wrapped together and relaxing against one another. 

Breaking apart, Lance spoke again, “Feeling any better?”

“I don’t know…”

“Why don’t we go inside. We’ll get you out of your binder and have you eat something. It might help. I already have food for you, alright?”

“Okay…”


	14. Chapter 14

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There had always been something about Keith, something about being this close to him that made Lance feel so relaxed, so safe. And now here he was, by his side with lips so loose every secret just seemed to spill right out.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey everyone! Surgery went well! So here I am with this week's chapter!
> 
> Also, season 4 was great! And can we talk about how they called Shiro "Shiro the Hero" just like I've had Lance calling him the whole time in this fic? haha
> 
> Anyway, I hope everyone is doing well! 
> 
> Trigger warnings for mentions of past dubcon and domestic abuse, disordered eating, and gender dysphoria.

He guided Keith inside with a hand to his back and then parted ways to join Shiro in the kitchen. He slipped into the seat to the right of his friend, leaving the empty table placement to Keith.

Shiro picked up his head from his intent gaze on his phone. It was as if there was a barrier between his thoughts and the world. If the world was not there, then his anxieties were not either, “What did he say?”

“It’s not you, Shiro. He’s just… I don’t know. He’s having a rough time.”

“I told him he needs to see a psychiatrist.” 

“You know how Keith gets. He’s stubborn. You have to make him want it. You won’t stay in therapy either, so he’s not going to be inclined to listen to you.”

“You’re not in therapy either, Lance.”

“Yep! Which is exactly why I didn’t tell him to go. If I tell him to go and am not going, then I’m a hypocrite.”

“Yet, you still tell me to go.”

“Yeah, because I know that you know you need to go.”

“Fair point.”

“He’s coming out here in a few minutes. He’s just changing first.”

“Please tell me you convinced him to stop binding for a bit.”

Lance nodded, “He’s getting out of it. Then he promised me he would eat what I made for him.”

“Did you make anything for yourself?”

“I’m not hungry. Breakfast doesn’t really appeal to me.”

“Lance.”

“What? I’m serious.”

Shiro sighed then spoke, “You can be serious all you want about not wanting to eat, but the truth is that if you don’t eat healthily and consistently you’re going to start losing weight again.”

He waved his hand dismissively, “Yeah, yeah. I know. You’re not the first person to tell me that. I’m well aware.”

“Then why didn’t you make yourself anything to eat? You’ve obviously been up all night, so you should be hungry.”

“I ate before I came, alright?” He lied, tone growing more defensive.

“I know that’s a lie.”

“No you don’t.”

“Lance.”

“I’m literally just not hungry, okay?! What’s so hard to understand about that?!” He snapped, pushing himself away from the table. “Food is gross anyway. It all tastes the same.”

“Lance, stop.”

“No. You know what? Fuck this. I’m taking a shower.” He stood up, stepping out of the kitchen with purpose. Angry tunnel vision lead him directly to the bathroom door. Reaching out, he gripped the slim handle only to find that it would not budge. Of course. Of course this would happen to him. Of course the moment he needed to get away, to escape the most, was the same exact one where Keith was hogging the bathroom. He hit his knuckles against the wood, wordlessly asking for Keith’s attention. “Almost done?”

“Um, yeah. Can you just hand me a shirt? I’m kind of uncomfortable in this one without a binder…”

“Yeah, sure. Just take mine. I’m going to take a shower anyway.” He stripped the shirt from his back, “Can I come in?”

“I… yeah.”

The door unlocked, releasing from its latch shortly afterwards. It swung open slightly, cueing Lance to slip inside and close it behind him. Keith stood idly on the shower mat next to the bathtub. He held the olive sweater to his bare chest, shielding it from sight. The sides of his body had begun to turn an unsettling purple, and Lance could only hope the underside of Keith’s breasts did not look the same.

“Keith, your chest is all messed up.”

“I know.”

“Promise me that you’re not going to put that thing back on until it heals.”

Keith bit his lip, tearing away small bits of skin from the surface of it. The silence spoke for itself.

“Keith, you want top surgery, right? You can mess that all up if you don’t take care of yourself  _ now _ . At least promise me that you won’t wear it around the apartment until everything heals. I don’t want to see you fuck up your transition options, because you weren’t binding safely.”

“Fine…”

He handed Keith his shirt, turning his back to the other man afterwards. “It’s big on me, and it’s a loose fit. So, it should help.”

“Was it a hand-me-down from Luis?” Keith asked, placing the shirt over his body.

Lance turned around and was met with the sight of Keith not just in an oversized shirt that reached midway down his thighs but in  _ his _ oversized shirt that reached midway down his thighs. Giving Keith his shirt for the moment was definitely a mistake, because he would be lying through his teeth if he said that was not a cute look for the other man. All his free energy went towards suppressing the blood rushing to his cheeks and the smiling threatening to show on his face, “Yeah, he’s obviously a bigger guy than me.”

“You’re also barely a healthy weight.”

Well, that killed his mood even more than before.

“Okay, okay. Enough about my appearance.”

“Lance, I’m serious.”

“Serious about what?”

“About your weight. Are you eating at all?”

“We’re not talking about this.”

“No. You said you’d talk to me once I told you my problems.” Keith crossed his arms across his chest. “Are you going back on what you said?”

“No! I…”

“You what?”

“No! No, I haven’t! Is that what you want to hear Keith?!”

“No. It’s not. But I just want you to be honest with me.”

“Why?!”

“Because  _ I _ was honest with  _ you _ !”

“I gave you that chance five years ago! I was completely open with you! I told you everything! You know all of my problems!”

“I obviously don’t! You used to love cooking! Now you barely even touch your food! And,” Keith grabbed Lance’s wrist, tugging it towards him with a hint of frustration. 

It was probably much more aggressive than Keith had originally intended, yet the action still sent a wave of panic through his system. His body tensed and in the corner of his eye, Keith’s body moved for another action. Head turning to the side, he braced for the impact. 

“Do… do you think I’m going to hit you?” Keith asked, his grip slacking.

He tried to speak, to answer the question, but his efforts were futile. The only thing able to escape were panicked breaths that came out all too quick. His body shook within what was left of Keith’s grip, and it was all as if he was back in his apartment when he was twenty.

“Lance? Lance, you need to breathe.”

He shook his head. 

Keith reached for his face, bringing his palms to each of Lance’s cheeks. The other man fought to hold Lance’s panicked gaze on him but was quickly defeated by the extra fight adrenaline placed inside of the blue-eyed man.

He shoved Keith away, shoved him hard. Space. He needed space. 

“Lance, you need to calm down. It’s just me. It’s Keith.” When Keith failed to receive a response, he continued, “Can I touch you?”

Lance shook his head.

“That’s alright. We’ll ground you then, okay? Do you know where you are?” When Lance nodded Keith continued, “Do you want to hear it?”

Lance nodded again.

“You’re in Shiro’s apartment. We’re in his bathroom. Do you want to sit down?”

When Lance took Keith up on his offer, he let the other man guide him down onto the tile floor. His back pressed against the porcelain of the bathtub behind him, while Keith took his own seat across from him. 

Sitting cross-legged across from Lance, Keith continued to speak, keeping his tone as calm as he could manage, “Let’s look around the room. Now, name one thing you can see.”

“You.” He managed to force out.

“Good. What about something you can touch?”

“I don’t know… the floor?”

“You’re doing great Lance.”

“I am?” He asked, bringing a hand to his face. He pushed the wetness from his eyes. Had he been crying?

“Yeah. I’m really proud.” A smile grew on Keith’s face, his eyes softening as his gaze rested on Lance’s face. “Do you feel okay being touched now?”

“Yeah…”

“Do you want a hug?”

Lance nodded, accepting Keith’s growing proximity to him. When the other man’s arms wrapped around him, it was as if Keith’s embrace absorbed this tremors. His body began to relax, leaning his weight into the support. His hands fisted into the fabric clothing Keith’s back, as if the action provided extra stability to his swaying emotions.

And they stayed there, unmoving except for small shifts of their bodies. Each tiny motion inching themselves closer to one another until Lance could feel Keith’s chest flush against his own, and his face buried into the crook of the other man’s neck. He inhaled, breathing in Keith’s scent. The earthy mix of nature and cigarette smoke still lulled him into the same sense of safety that he had felt years ago whenever he had laid in Keith’s arms. It was as if the world had stopped. He did not have to worry about anything outside the bathroom door. As long as he stayed within Keith’s reassuring hold, it was just the two of them. He let his eyes wet Keith’s neck, the only outlet his body could currently manage for his anxiety, but it was okay. It was okay because the world could not hurt him here.

He lifted his head from Keith’s neck. Maybe it had been a few minutes, maybe it had been a few hours. All he knew was that his body had begun to calm itself down, leaving him with only a faint shaking in his hands.

Keith shifted, moving to lean his body against the bathtub beside Lance. His arm wrapped around Lance’s shoulders, bringing him close. The moment the blue-eyed man began to lean into him, reciprocating the gesture, he relaxed as well. “You okay?”

“I think so.” Lance replied, “Just anxiety. Sucks, right?”

“Can we talk about it? Because that wasn’t just a normal panic attack. You usually get them from overthinking, not suddenly like that. And not so intense.”

“I don’t know…”

“Please? It helped me feel better, right?”

“Yeah, but—”

“But what? You’re going to be anxious for the rest of the day if you don’t get it off your chest. You know that.”

“Yeah, I guess…”

“So? Can we talk?”

“Fine…”

“Do you want me to ask questions to help you?”

“That would help…”

“Did someone hurt you? Can you tell me about Lotor, too?”

He wrapped his arms around Keith’s body, securing his spot next to him. As much as he hated to admit it, and would never let Keith know, his proximity gave off an aura of safety. The man next to him had too much bottled up anger to not take an opportunity to sock someone in the face who dared to lay a hand on his body right now. Plus, there was cuddling and extra warmth. A nice addition to boost his comfort. Once Keith’s arm shifted to hold him better, he answered, “What do you want to know?”

“Who was he to you in college?”

“My boyfriend. We met at a party.”

“Really?”

“Yeah, I was a bit drunk though. I don’t remember it very well. I didn’t drink that much though. Honestly, I only remember having like two drinks. It just hit me really hard that night I guess.”

“What do you mean?”

“I don’t know. I usually need a lot more than a few cheap drinks to black out like that. I mean, you saw me at New Years, I took  _ a lot _ of shots before I was really drunk. Maybe the drink he gave me was just really strong, or maybe the drinks I had just had more alcohol in them than I thought? I don’t know. All I know was I remember meeting him, and we talked for a while. I don’t remember much after that. I woke up in his room, well in his bed specifically. I freaked out a bit, ‘cause I was not trying to get lucky that night and here I am in his bed butt naked. But we talked for a while, he calmed me down, and then he said he really was interested in me and wanted to know if I’d be open to going on a date with him. So I said sure, and that’s how that happened.”

“Did you ever learn what happened that night?” Keith’s other hand reached out. His fingers settled in Lance’s locks, combing through them absentmindedly.

“No. Lotor said I just had too much to drink probably. I was kinda sore for a while, I bled a little. I asked him about it, and he told me that we just got a little rough. We were drunk, so we probably just weren’t careful. We never really were into vanilla sex together in the first place, so I trust what he told me.”

“You don’t ever question it?”

“I don’t know if I really want to to be honest.”

“I get it… sometimes it’s better not to know. I was happier when I thought my mom was dead and didn’t abandon me.” His fingers moved to play with Lance’s bangs, “Can I ask a more difficult question?”

“Mhm.”

“Did he used to hurt you?”

“I…” How was he supposed to answer  _ that _ ? Well, Lotor  _ did _ hurt him. But, it was not as if his ex-boyfriend had ever really had that intent from the beginning. It had always been Lance’s fault when it happened. He knew Lotor had the ability to get violent when he was angry, and he knew exactly what behaviors it was that triggered said rage. Yet, he still did them anyway. So, yes, Lotor did hit him, but only when Lance had personally picked the choice of being a dumbass. And even if it had not been his fault, well, then he just needed to have fought back harder. “Well, kind of… it was always my fault though to be honest.”

“What do you mean it was your fault?!” Keith exclaimed, voice rising, “If your boyfriend was abusing you that is only his fault!”

“Keith, stop.”

“No! I won’t stop! Lance, I want you to look at me.”

“Keith…”

“Look at me, Lance.” His voice grew more stern. When Lance gazed up, removing his head from it’s home against Keith’s side the other man continued, “It will never, ever be your fault. You never deserved that, no matter what he said about it.”

“Keith, you don’t know him.”

“I don’t have to. I know you, and I know that you don’t do things that warrant getting hit. No one deserves being abused Lance.”

“I knew he would hit me if I was being annoying. I could—”

“No!” Keith cut him off, “I want you to say it.”

“Keith—”

“Say it.”

“I didn’t deserve it…”

“Good. Don’t you ever think it was your fault, okay?”

“Okay…” His voice came out small, as if he could set off a fuse within Keith with the incorrect tone or word.

“Lance… I’m not going to hurt you. Have I ever laid a hand on you like that?”

He shook his head.

“Did I come on too strong again?”

“Yeah.” Lance managed to force out.

“I’m sorry then.” Keith’s hand found its way back into Lance’s hair. The other man finger-combed his hair, letting him relax back into Keith’s side. “I didn’t mean to upset you more. I just want you to know that you’re not a bad person, and that you didn’t deserve that kind of treatment. I care about you.”

“I care about you too, Keith. That’s why the fact that you’re sleeping like twenty hours a day worries me.” He brushed his thumb over the the fingers Keith had been using to hold his body closer. The rest of his fingers came closer to Keith’s, interlocking with them. 

“You’re not looking like you’re having a healthy sleeping pattern either. You’ve never had bags like this under your eyes. Did you sleep at all last night?”

“No… What about you? Did you do anything  _ but _ sleep?”

“Not really.”

“Then I guess we’re both guilty, huh?” He replied, the end of his statement tinted with a tired laugh.

“Yeah.” Keith brushed Lance’s bangs from his face, “Feeling any better?”

“Kinda. Exhausted…”

“You should go take a nap after your shower.”

“I don’t want one anymore.”

“You were going to burn yourself with the water, weren’t you?”

“So what?”

“Lance…”

“Look, I’m fine. I just had a moment. I don’t do that stuff anymore, I promise.”

“If you say so.” Keith broke the contact of their bodies and stood, offering Lance a hand to help him join him, “Go take a nap for a bit, alright?”

“I’m supposed to be keeping an eye on Shiro’s anxiety.” He took Keith’s hand, rising to join the other man.

“We’re inside the house, nothing bad will happen. I can handle him for a few hours if anything does.” Keith turned the knob to the door, pushing it open for the two of them.

“I guess you’re right. Not like I’ve been doing even a halfway decent job anyway.”

“Stop. You’re doing fine. Stop sacrificing your health and get some rest. You need it, or you’ll have another anxiety attack. I know you, your anxiety is a lot worse when you don’t sleep.”

“It’s uncomfortable how well you know me.”

“It’s uncomfortable how well  _ I _ know  _ you? _ Have you heard yourself speak when I’m upset, Mr. I-Know-Exactly-Why-You-Do-Everything-That-You-Do-Because-I’m-Somehow-Good-At-Psychology?”

A small laugh escaped him, “Yeah, maybe I should’ve majored in that instead of astrophysics. Maybe I’d actually have a degree instead of being a dropout.”

Keith stopped, body frozen for several seconds before he spoke, “Dropout?”

“I… yeah. We didn’t have this conversation?”

“No. We did not.”

“Why would an astrophysicist be working in the family restaurant?” 

“I don’t know. I just figured it was your choice. You’ve always been close to your family.”

“I absolutely hate food. Why would I work there by choice?”

“I didn’t know how strongly you felt about food. We used to cook together all the time in high school.”

“Oh… Yeah. That’s also a new thing. Food is gross now. I don’t have an appetite anymore. Everything tastes bland no matter how much seasoning I use anyway, so what’s the point?”

“Staying healthy is the point.”

“And if I don’t care about that?”

“Then you’re not as okay as you keep saying you are.”

He shrugged, as if the action also pushed away Keith’s unfortunately valid points. “Look, I’m gonna go take that nap you wanted me to take, alright?”

“I, um, okay. Yeah, you do that I guess.”

“Wake me up in an hour or something, alright?” He plopped his body onto the couch, letting his weight sink into the cushions below him. His fingers wrapped around the fabric of the blanket neatly hung over the back of the couch, before pulling it over his frame and snuggling into it. Breathing in, the only solid thought that crept into his brain was just how much the blanket draped around him smelled of Keith. He hated the involuntary smile that made its way onto his face, but he was too exhausted to really care at this point. Making sure to add a mental note to scold himself later, he let himself slowly drift off listening to Shiro’s phone conversation a room over. And for once, life wanted to work with him, no intrusive or anxiety provoking thoughts interrupted his descent into the realm of sleep.

By the time his eyes slid open, ideas of how much sleep he had truly gotten found their way into his mind, because there was no way that nap had been less than an hour. He had told Keith to wake him up if he slept past it. His eyes soon settled on the cable clock across the room.

Well, that was just another reason to add to the list of why he should not trust Keith with anything.

Blue eyes searched around the room, for what he was not entirely sure. Waking up somewhere that was not his own room always had a habit of disorienting him for a few minutes. Lucky enough for him, this was not the first time he had taken a nap on Shiro and Matt’s couch. The surroundings were familiar enough, nothing too unlike home to him. In fact, he had spent so much of the last year or so of his life in this apartment that it almost was like his second home. All he needed at this point was a bed reserved only for him.

A pair of voices sounded from the room next to him, their conversation uninterrupted by his waking. Well, of course it was. It was not as if he had made a scene about his brain’s arrival back into consciousness yet. The sounds were familiar, his mind pairing them with Keith and Shiro. It seemed innocent.

Until he realized what — or who, he might say — exactly was the topic of their conversation.

“Shiro, please, you have to tell me what happened to him while I was gone.”

“I can’t tell you that, Keith. It’s not my information to share.”

“But maybe I can help. I can’t just watch him fall apart!”

“You have to talk to him yourself.”

“But he won’t tell me anything!”

“Keith, calm down.”

“No! You calm down!”

“I am calm.”

A loud bang sounded, as if a fist had hit a surface.

“Keith!”

“WHAT?!”

“You know what.”

“I…” Keith’s voice broke, “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”

“Keith… there’s no need to cry, alright? I know you’ve been having a hard time, and I should be there for you more than I have been. But, you need to want the help too, or else it means nothing.”

“I do want it. I do.”

“Then you need to do what I ask and see a psychiatrist.”

“With what money?”

“I’ll pay, don’t worry about it. I can get you on my insurance plan.”

“No! I can’t be financially dependent on someone like that again…”

“Keith, it’s alright. I’m your brother. It’s what family does for each other.”

“I can’t do it. Don’t make me.” Keith’s voice came out almost pleading, as if borrowing money was a death sentence in his mind.

“Keith, I’m scared. I’m so scared for you. You’re a fighter. You always have been. But lately you seem like you’ve just given up, like you don’t care anymore. It really scares me.”

“I’m not going to kill myself, Shiro.”

“I said that too, but I still ended up under a suicide watch.”

“I… Why?”

“We can talk if you promise to try and stay calm, alright?”

“Okay.”

“After mom and dad died, I had a complete freak out. I didn’t know why, but I suddenly couldn’t do anything I was able to before.”

“You punched our uncle in the face for trying to get you in the car to go to the funeral…”

“Yeah… he’s not the only one I’ve done that too either, and I hate myself for it. I’ve had night terrors and flashbacks ever since the accident. Matt was the best I could ever have in college while I was dealing with all of that. But, it wasn’t just that I don’t sleep well now, everything just became so gloomy and numb. It seemed like there was no point to anything, that we all die, and I should just accept it. So I did. I just kind of went through the motions of life. The only times it was really different was when you called… Matt and I dealt with so many telemarketers and spam calls, because I never knew if it was going to be you on the other line. Keith, if you leave again, promise me that you’ll at least keep a prepaid phone. I missed you so much.”

“I promise. I won’t completely cut ties again. That was childish.”

“Thank you. I guess I just got so numb and miserable that I didn’t even want to try anymore. I started drinking lot. Then, before I knew it, I had just shut down. I couldn’t do anything, not even sleep. And a little while later, I had a mental breakdown, and Lance helped me take a medical leave from work and took me to a hospital. They diagnosed me with PTSD and put me in therapy.”

“Then why aren’t you going.”

“I just, I’m not ready to deal with what happened yet.”

“It’s been five years, Shiro.”

“You have a lot you haven’t dealt with too, Keith. What happened to finding a gender therapist? You told me your plan was to come out here, get everything cleared up, then get on track and move your life along. You said you wanted to start working, get your own place, and start with your medical transition. What happened to all of that?”

“You guys aren’t on Katie’s case.”

“Katie’s functional, Keith. She doesn’t flip through five emotions in ten minutes, then get sad and decide to sleep for the rest of the day. Whenever you’re ready to start working on your life, I’m here to help and support you, but I can’t carry you if you’re not trying.”

“I don’t act like that.”

“Keith, you went from begging, to yelling, to crying within a few minutes.”

“So? Lance isn’t okay either. He goes from yelling to crying, too.”

“Lance also has a job and doesn’t sleep all day.”

“Okay, but he doesn’t sleep. Isn’t that bad too?”

“Keith, the difference is that you don’t even go outside.”

“Yes, I do!”

“When?”

“Yesterday. And when I met Lance at The Grind. And when I took Lance to urgent care. And when you took me to get my phone and new clothes.”

A sigh escaped Shiro’s lips, “Keith, four times in a month isn’t enough.”

“It’s something.”

“It’s not enough.”

“I’m trying Shiro. I really am.” Keith’s voice broke again.

“I know, I know. I want to help you too, but I can’t when you’re not going to therapy.”

“Lance isn’t. You’re not.”

“We’re not talking about my problems right now.”

“What about Lance?”

“Lance is handling himself.”

“He’s clearly not, Shiro!”

“Keith.”

“Don’t ‘Keith’ me! He’s seeing an abusive guy and no one is doing anything! Have you seen his arm?! It’s all black and blue!”

“I know. I’ve seen it.”

“Then why aren’t you saying anything?! You’re supposed to be his friend!”

“Keith, you know Lance just as well as I do. He’s stubborn. If you get aggressive with his choices, he’s not going to change them. He’s just going to feel like you’re not there to support him. Telling him about how he’s making the wrong choices won’t make him do anything but distance himself. And that’s the last opportunity you need to give Lotor. People like Lotor prey on people like Lance, people who have insecurities and low self-esteem.”

Is that really what Shiro thought? That Lotor was a temporary part of Lance’s life, something that was just a poor choice? That he was just  _ prey _ ? 

No. There was more to his relationship than that—did he just call it a relationship? As if Lotor was his boyfriend? 

Okay, he really was in too deep.

“You have a lot of emotions, use them to feel with Lance instead of trying to fight him with logic. What he’s doing right now isn’t anxiety based. He doesn’t need to be told everything that could result from it. He needs a support system. If you want to help him, then don’t be the person who says ‘I told you so’, but be the person who has a blanket and his favorite movies set up for when he needs to cry. Let him know he’s cared for.”

“I… what if he doesn’t want me around?”

“We can cross that bridge when we get to it.” The sound of a chair scraping against the tile floor echoed throughout the apartment. “I’m going to go lie down for a bit.”

“Shiro, before you go, I want you to answer something.”

“What is it Keith?”

“What was it like with him? With Lotor, I mean.”

“Honestly, I can’t tell you. I wasn’t hanging out with Lance back then. The only one who knows is Hunk, and Lance hasn’t told him about his thing with Lotor yet. If you want answers, you’ll have to talk to him, but you risk breaking Lance’s trust.”

“I… okay…”

“I’ll be in my room. And Keith,”

“Yeah?”

“Please try and shower today. I know you’re struggling, but I think it might help, even if it’s just a little bit. And, if you can’t, I’m still so proud of you for getting up for this long. I’m sorry again for yelling earlier.”

“It’s alright.”

Shiro’s body passed by his, and he froze. Every muscle in him locked and only his eyes could watch the older man, praying that he had not just been caught red handed eavesdropping. Yet, when the man in question exited the scene without another word, the world seemed as if it had taken his side for once.

Another presence entered the room. The purple-eyed man quickly made his way from the kitchen to the bathroom, likely to start what Shiro had instructed him to. 

Which left Lance, alone in an apartment that was not his. But, he still had a job. If Matt had gotten back to find Shiro more anxious than ever, well then Lance would not just be down one friend, but probably down at least one eye too. The other man had enough to worry about when it came to his little sister, he did not need to feel as if Lance was unable to care for the other people in their lives as well.

He pushed off the blanket, losing the warmth and security that had relaxed him for the last few hours. Ambling over to Shiro’s room, he shook the last of sleep from his body before knocking his knuckles against the wooden door. With no answer, he attempted once more, only to be met without a word; only a soft, unhappy and emotionally drained grunt from the place he desired to enter.

Well, that probably was an exhausted Shiro’s way of inviting him in.

His palm pressed flat against the door, applying just enough pressure to move the object in question with no sound other than the creaking of the hinges. It was dark, no light except for the small area illuminated by the backlight of Shiro’s cell phone lying idle on the nightstand, which seemed unable to last, dying just as every other light seemed to within a few minutes. Shiro remained still, lying on his bed, back to the door. The scene before him was almost like a metaphor. The darkness of the room swallowed Shiro up. The only light that had been spared slowly giving in to the overwhelming sadness. It was a view he would have expected more from Keith, yet Shiro’s involvement in such a thing came as no surprise. Padding his way across the room, he sat himself next to his friend’s head.

“How are you doing, superman?”

“Miserable.”

“Well, sitting in a dark room isn’t going to help that.”

“Good for me that I’m lying down then.”

Lance rolled his eyes, “Talk to me. What are you thinking about?”

“How I had an episode this morning. A bad one.” Shiro’s voice stayed low and quiet, “I woke up from a night terror, and Matt couldn’t even convince me that I had actually woken up. Here I am in my own bed, waking up with Matt next to me like usual, and I’m completely convinced that it isn’t over. That any moment, I’m going to get a call that Keith crashed his motorcycle on the highway or that someone t-boned you at an intersection. I tore out my own hair. I have no idea why Matt even sticks around.”

“Okay, yeah. But, that happens. Keith is barely able to regulate any of his emotions right now, yet we all still care about him. Lotor has really bad moments with his anger, but I know he learned it from his dad. So I still care for him. I know that I can be difficult to have a conversation with sometimes with the way my thoughts bounce around. You guys still care about me, well, I mean, I think you—I hope…”

“We do.”

“Then stop questioning why Matt chooses to keep being your friend.”

A silence fell between them, coating every inch of them and the room itself. A hand reached into Shiro’s hair, slowly playing with it in soft, relaxing motions. His eyes began to adjust, night vision kicking in and granting his pupils the permission to focus in more on his surroundings. A wooden nightstand stood on each side of the bed as usual yet only one remained pristine. The one closest to Shiro only displayed his phone, smartwatch charger, and a fine-toothed comb. The other surface was cluttered with miscellaneous objects from bottles of leave-in conditioner to family photos, barely enough space left for anything else of importance. It was strange, uncharacteristic of his friend to leave objects in a cluttered mess. Then it hit him.

This was all Matt’s belongings. The array of random objects, the clothes scattered on the other side of the room that were in sizes that could never fit the owner of the room, and the dishevelled side of the bed that Shiro had not seemed to have touched. It was all Matt.

How long had Shiro and Matt been  _ this _ close without him noticing?

“I can’t even recognize Keith’s voice anymore…”

He ripped himself from his train of thought, “What do you mean?”

“I’ve had several PTSD attacks, each one I can’t recognize his voice. I don’t know who he is. The only voices I know are yours and Matt’s. Not even my own brother’s.”

“It’s okay, Shiro. He hasn’t been around. You explained it to me. You recognize the voices of people you talk to a lot.”

“But it’s like I’m losing my brother all over again.”

“Keith’s not leaving you.”

“I lost Ryou.”

“Sometimes people get sick. It’s not in your control.”

“Keith’s sick, too.”

“Not like Ryou was.”

“Mental illness almost killed both of us Lance, especially you.”

“But we’re here now, right? That’s what matters.”

“He’s scaring me. What if we’re wrong? What if I lose him too?”

“Don’t think like that. I… look, I heard you and Keith talking. He’ll go to therapy. I can tell you that. He wants the help. He doesn’t like the way he is at all. You don’t have to worry.”

“He also bottles everything up. What if he’s lying to us? I can’t lose anymore family, Lance.”

“You won’t.”

“He smokes. He smokes a lot. What if he’s on his way to cancer just like Ryou? You can’t undo that kind of damage.”

“I’ll talk to him, alright?”

“What if he doesn’t listen?”

The phone on the nightstand closest to them buzzed against the wood, the resulting sound loud enough in contrast to the otherwise silent room that it could almost be a ringtone in itself. Lance’s fingers slipped around the object, yanking it from the cord. The words  _ Matt <3 _ displayed across the top of the screen. He placed it into Shiro’s hand, “It’s Matt. I’ll let you two talk and go check on Keith.”

Shiro gave him a small nod, answering his phone once it was in his hands.

He stood, exiting the room and silently shutting the door behind him. The thundering of water echoed from the bathroom and the pipes, proving that Keith had finally listened to outside advice. He leaned closer, pressing his ear against the door to the room Keith had locked himself in. Even with the sound of the shower drowning out the outside sounds, the occasional sniff managed to fight its way through. And he could only imagine the feeling, the one he had experienced too many times himself. Alone, with nobody to turn to, pouring out everything he felt he had to hide in secret.

Yeah, maybe there was a chance Shiro was right. He really should worry just a bit more about Keith.


	15. Chapter 15

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sometimes when things need to get done, you have to do them yourself.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am so sorry for disappearing for a month. I went to a con last weekend and I needed all my free time to finish up my cosplay. On the bright side, I got a lot of photographer attention so I had to be looking at least halfway decent lol. I'm going to do everything I can to keep the update schedule, but I'm approaching finals territory. Once I'm on winter break for my semester then I can probably try and go to a once a week updates for a month. I'll let you all know on my Tumblr if anything, I promise.
> 
> Also, there's a text conversation again. Just a reminder that if it's not specified who said something, it's coming from Lance's phone.
> 
> Trigger warnings for mentions of past eating disorders and child abuse.

Pidgeot  
  
Hey. Can I add you to a group chat with Keith?  
  
Yeah. Go for it.  
  


You Guys Woke Me Up  
  
Pidgeot  
I have the intel.  
Hunk a' Burnin' Love  
What intel? WHAT DID I MISS?!  
Pidgeot changed the name of the group to Matt Is Gay For Shiro  
  
Hunk a' Burnin' Love  
OH! THAT’S WHAT WE’RE TALKING ABOUT?!  
Pidgeot changed the name of the group to Yes That Is What We’re Talking About  
  
You changed the name of the group to Stop Changing The Group Name And Tell Us Already  
  
Pidgeot changed the name of the group to Lance Is A Party Pooper  
  
You changed the name of the group to Shut Up Pidge  
  
Keith Gyeong changed the name of the group to You Guys Woke Me Up  
  
Good. You sleep too much  
Keith Gyeong  
And you should go back to bed. Some extra sleep would be good for you.  
For your information Gyeong, I slept fine last night  
Hunk a' Burnin' Love  
What’s the special occasion?  
I don’t know. Maybe talking to cute moody boys all day tires me out  
Hunk a' Burnin' Love  
WOAH! WHAT DID I MISS?!  
Pidgeot  
Are the secret feelings coming out? (͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)  
Pidge I s2g  
Pidgeot  
Lance has a cruuuussssshhhhh  
Pidge, I’ll change your name in my phone to Pidget Spinner then make it the new in joke  
Pidgeot  
But you’re in loooooveeeee  


Lance tapped across his screen, searching for his friend's contact information. He quickly typed in the new nickname he had chosen for Pidge. He screenshotted the result and sent it to the group of friends messaging him.

You Guys Woke Me Up  
  
Done  
Pidget Spinner  
CHANGE IT BACK RIGHT NOW  
Nope. Not happening. You had your chance. Besides, I’m SEEING someone.  
Hunk a' Burnin' Love  
YEAH! When are we meeting him?!  
Whenever one of us decides we want a commitment  
Hunk a' Burnin' Love  
You always want a commitment from whoever you’re dating.  
Pidget Spinner  
No. Lance said he was looking for hook ups. He probably met someone on Grindr  
Keith Gyeong  
I really don’t want to hear about Lance’s sex life.  
Pidget Spinner  
You’re just butthurt for not being in it  
No. I changed my mind. I might actually make this serious with him.  
Hunk a' Burnin' Love  
AND YOU WON’T EVEN GIVE US A NAME!  
Keith Gyeong  
I’m going to turn off my phone. Night.  
Pidget Spinner  
DON’T YOU DARE! Anyway. So, Matt and Shiro. I asked Matt in the car the other day about their relationship.  
Hunk a' Burnin' Love  
And????  
Pidget Spinner  
They’re not dating. But they’re not strictly friends. They both admitted that they have feelings for each other, but Shiro wants to take things really slow first. So, they’re not putting a label on it yet, but there’s something there.  
Hunk a' Burnin' Love  
I KNEW IT!  
Keith Gyeong  
Pidge, they’ve been cuddled up on the couch every night since New Year’s and sharing a bed. What did you think was going on?  
Pidget Spinner  
Matt and Shiro have always been weirdly close. And what happened to going back to sleep?  
Keith Gyeong  
Shiro won’t let me. He’s making me go outside.  


“Lance. Off your phone.” A voice scolded him from behind. He quickly slipped the object back into his pocket, turning to face the source of authority.

“Papi, I can’t even wash any of the dishes with my finger. I can’t get the cast wet. Can’t I just go home?”

“No. And you should’ve thought about that before you slammed your car door on your own finger.”

“Hey! It wasn’t on purpose.” Lance protested.

“You need to pay more attention. That’s why things like this happen to you.”

“It’s called ADHD.” He grumbled beneath his breath, ignoring the constant vibrations in his pocket. “What do you want me to do then?”

“Cut the attitude. If you don’t want to work here, then go back to school or move out. Both your siblings left the house by your age.”

“Well, I’m not them. Sorry, I’m not the kind of son you imagined.”

“No. You’re more than capable. You just gave up after Plaxum left you.” 

“That’s not true at all!” He snapped, bad hand slamming down onto the counter in a movement that he immediately regretted as pain radiated through the affected area. “Colchones!”

“ _ Lance _ .” His father scolded. 

“What?” Wetness pricked his eyes. Of course he was about to have an emotional moment in the middle of work. Life just loved him like that, did it not?

A sigh broke the tension between the two men, “Go take your fifteen. Then go host, alright?”

He gave him a nod, appreciative of the way the escalating conversation had decided to fizzle out. He stepped out of the kitchen, then the restaurant. Settling himself into the backseat of his car, he took his phone into his fingers, scrolling through the notifications from his friends. The conversation had died. No new information besides the confirmation of everyone’s inklings about Shiro and Matt. 

Air escaped from between his lips. The news dug at him as if a finger had managed to poke and prod at each sensitive spot in his heart, mocking him for the thing he could not achieve himself. He had tried, tried so many times. Keith, Lotor, and Plaxum. Each relationship crumbling at his own hand by the end. Keith had gotten so sick of Lance’s constant repetitive problems that there was no point to even stay in contact. Lotor had gotten so fed up with the way Lance was, the way he could not conquer his anxieties and sadness, that he had found pleasure in someone else. And Plaxum? Well, he single-handedly caused the destruction of that relationship with his inability to cope with grief and loss without completely shutting down.

Maybe he just was not meant for love in the way others were.

His thumb hovered over Lotor’s contact information. He hated himself, hated himself for how much he yearned to get away from everything, everyone in town. Separating himself from his current life for a weekend and throw himself right into Lotor’s strong arms, the arms of someone who wanted him, bestowed the validation he so craved upon him. He glanced at the numbers on the top of his screen. If he was correct, the other man would be on his lunch break. 

He went for it.

His own face filled his screen and a ringer sounded as he scooted upright. Admittedly, he looked better than he had in several weeks, upset, but the bags that had made a home on his face recently had begun to fade. To be fair, talking out his anxieties with Keith that day had helped his sleep. In fact, he had texted him several times at night since then. The conversations had never gotten too deep, just playful jokes and sending each other stupid pictures from the internet, but it was nice. An easy way to relax a bit before sleeping, warding off the thoughts that kept him up at unholy hours of the night. 

A head of long silver hair and a pointed chin pushed his own face from the screen. The phone’s camera focused and a new voice came into play, “Hey Angel Eyes.”

“Prince Charming.” His smile did not reach his eyes, and he knew it. He knew Lotor would notice. His eyes had always been the other man’s favorite part about him. Back in college, the two had had late nights, talking in bed until the early hours, chaste kisses exchanged and the silver-haired man granting him genuine compliments when he had finally relaxed. 

_ That _ . That right there was what he wanted in his life again. Someone to confide in, joke around with, wake up next to when he could no longer sleep, and keep him company when he did his daily tasks.

“What’s wrong, pet? You don’t seem happy.” The angle shifted on Lotor’s side, a result of him propping his phone up on the table beside him.

“Can I see you this weekend?”

“Hmm, what’s the occasion?”

“I miss you.” He curled in on himself, as if holding himself would provide the same comfort he was seeking.

Lotor rested his chin on his knuckles, and the beginnings of a smile tugged at his lips, “Then I think something can be arranged.”

“I caught you in a good mood.”

“Well, I did get surprised with your beautiful face today.”

A smile and giggle cracked through him. Blue eyes softened at the purple ones staring back at him through the screen.

“There’s that smile. Tell me, what’s wrong. You never call me out of the blue unless you’re upset.”

“I don’t know.”

The other man rolled his eyes, “This again? That’s not an answer Lance. We’ve gone over this.”

“Bad day at work I guess… kinda lonely.”

“We’ll fix that, alright? But, we’re in a bit of a predicament.”

He could feel his own face fall at the second part of the response. “Oh…”

“I said we’ll fix it. I have to visit my parents this weekend, but if you’re interested, I’ll take you with me.”

“I… your parents? Why are you going there? Will you be okay?”

“If my father tries to lay a hand on me, I’m just calling the police. I’m not putting up with him for longer than I have to. Not like he remembers I exist until he needs me to do something anyway.”

“And your mom?”

“Old hag is probably just trying to get back to controlling my life again. Did you know she had several people hired to stalk my social media accounts?”

“Woah, woah, woah. What?”

“She was paying people to tell her what I’m doing, because I blocked her on everything. I’m an adult. I don’t need her commenting on every choice I make then going behind my back to change it. All of this, and my father doesn’t even want to give me the company. He’s been personally training this bastard named Sendak in how to take his place! And then there’s fucking Throk who's been going around telling people all about how I probably got my position at my job, because my father owns the company. Not like I’ve worked myself to the bone to get to where I am or anything!”

“Lotor, I still think you should cut ties with them. It’s not good for you to be seeing them.”

“And do what then? Lose my job and my inheritance? At least if I put up with this bullshit, I still get money when the old bastard dies. I have half a mind to do it myself.”

“Lotor, you’re supposed to be getting better. If you talk like that, no one is going to believe you.”

“Do you believe me?”

“Of course I do. What kind of question is that?!”

“Then that’s all that matters.”

“Lotor—”

“I have to get going. Lunch break is over. I’ll see you this weekend. You’re able to drive up to my place, right?”

“Yeah. When do you want me there?”

“Between twelve and one. I’m taking a half day Friday, so once you get here, we’ll drive my car to the hotel.”

“Do I owe you anything?”

“Whole weekend’s on me, pet. Don’t worry about a thing but getting here. See you Friday, Angel Eyes.”

The call ended, Lotor’s face disappearing from the screen. He glanced at the clock bordering the top of his phone. His break would be over in a few minutes. Scraping together what little sanity he had left for the day, he straightened his posture, and his fingers swept over his notifications.

Keith Gyeong  
  
Are you working today?  
  
Yeah, why?  
  
Don’t worry about it.  
  
Too late. I’m worrying.  
  
:)  
  
KEITH GYEONG!  
  


Blue eyes landed on the timestamp next to Keith’s last message, body tensing at the realization he had to be inside already. One minute ago. He leapt out, barely finding time to lock his vehicle, and sprinted back into the source of his current misery. 

“You seem like you calmed down a bit.”

“Yeah. I just talked to Lotor for a bit. It helped. I’m going up to see him this weekend. Can I take the days off?.”

“I suppose. I’d prefer if you’d give more than a few days notice from now on though, Lance.” His father’s voice slowly morphed into a scolding tone.

“Yeah, yeah, I know, I know. Look, I just really need this right now. Remember, mami said you have to listen when I’m telling you I need to take time for myself. It’s what the doctor from the hospital said too. Besides, I haven’t asked for time off since Lotor came to visit. I’ll work some extra hours next week if it’s that big of a deal.”

“No, you’re fine. But I need you here next weekend. David’s back at school, so we’re down a pair of hands.”

“Yeah, I’ll be here. I’m only seeing him for a few days. I just need a break.”

“I understand. I need you out hosting now. We have customers.”

“On it.” He shot his father a pair of finger guns before exiting the area and stepping over to the front entrance. The pair standing by the neat stack of menus were too familiar for him to keep up the work persona that his father had scolded him for dropping on multiple occasions. “Is this why you wanted to know if I was working?”

“Maybe.” Keith replied, “You do owe me a free meal.”

“What? Are you asking me on a date, Gyeong?” Lance took a pair of menus into his hands, a smile tugging at his lips and flirtatious tone entering his voice.

“You said it, not me.”

“Unfortunately for you, I’m a very busy man, and I’m not free right now. Maybe next time.”

“Well, I hope I’m still getting the free food.”

He placed his hand over his heart in mock offense, “Using me for free food? How could you?”

“Hey, you offered.” Keith threw up his hands in defense, but the curl of his lips revealed his true feelings in the statement.

“Booth or table? Your choice.”

“Surprise us.” Shiro’s voice entered the conversation.

“Well of course. I can’t just leave that decision up to mere mortals now, can I?”

“Who’s saying you’re not a mere mortal as well?” Shiro replied, humoring the conversation.

“I’ve been a waiter for over two years. Trust me, I’m immortal now.”

“Fair point, but with the amount of stupidity I’ve seen from some of my clients, I just might be able to rival some of your stories.”

“I would gladly switch jobs for a day, Shiro. Just say the word, and I’m there.” He placed the pair of menus down onto the table. He waited for both Shiro and Keith to climb into the booth before he spoke again, “Anything to drink for two handsome men?”

“Lance, stop flirting with the customers.” A scolding voice came from the next room.

“There’s like, no one here. Let me be gay, Papi.” Lance whined, tilting his head back towards the intruding voice, “Oh yeah! That reminds me! Keith’s meal is on me. I told him I’d pay, so let the waitress know!”

Footsteps trailed into the room, revealing his father. “I’ll make sure to tell—Is that Keith?”

“Uh, yeah. He helped me out a couple weeks ago with my finger, so I promised him I’d give him a free meal to thank him. Shiro’s on his own though.”

“Great to know your love extends to me too, Lance.” Shiro teased.

“Oh, put a sock in it.” He turned to his father. “And, yeah, just take it out from my paycheck.”

“Nonsense. We haven’t seen Keith in years. I’m perfectly fine with giving him a meal. Shiro’s is on the house too.” The man took a seat in the booth next to Shiro, across from Keith. “How long have you been back for, Keith? It’s been how many years? About five?”

“Yeah, five. Lance won’t let me forget that. Trust me.”

“For good reason. You can’t just up and leave for five years with no warning, then come back and expect me to be one-hundred-percent fine with it.”

“Lance, you’re being harsh. That’s exactly what you did to Lotor. Now you two are talking again, and he never held it against you.” He turned back to Keith, “What have you been doing for five years?”

Lance opened his mouth to make a reply, then closed it, pressing his lips into a thin line. Yes, Lotor had been willing to talk to him again and start off on a good note after not speaking at all for a while. But, he was not about to let his father in on the true details of the breakup. No, not in a million years after the human race had run its course and the next dominant species was facing extinction. Instead, he would just let Keith speak. It was the easiest, and most convenient, decision at the moment.

“Traveling, I guess? I just kinda rode around for a while, working some under the table jobs here and there. Spent some time in Texas. I was in Colorado before I came back here.”

“What was out there for you in Texas and Colorado?”

“My mom lives in Texas. And I was drawn to the nature in Colorado, probably would’ve lived in a cabin out there in the middle of the woods if I could. But, I met a guy there, and I lived with him until we broke up.”

“What made you come back to town? I know there isn’t much left here for you.”

“I missed my brother and some other people. There’s a lot of people I took for granted while I lived here too, your son was definitely one of them. If I could go back and kick my younger self for not trying to work through things before leaving, I definitely would.”

“So, what are you doing now?”

“Not much. Job hunting.”

“Well, you’re always welcome to work here at the restaurant. We could always use another set of hands on deck.”

Of course. Of fucking course that would be what came out of his father’s mouth. Offering Keith a job at the same career that was slowly driving him insane. The last person he needed at the job was Keith, especially when he was  _ still _ so conflicted on whether or not he even considered the other man a friend at this point. Work was enough on his shoulders. If he had to deal with his social stressors on top of it at the same time, he was pretty sure he would just drop dead right on the kitchen floor. Hopefully, Keith would disregard the offer completely in a few days. 

“Thanks. I’ll keep it in mind.”

The ring of a bell pulled his mind from the fixation on the conversation between his father and Keith. His head whipped to the door, body soon following as he switched into his normal autopilot of guiding new customers to their assigned seating. The fact that his father and Keith were having a pleasant conversation in the next room, as if Keith had not left him in pieces during his senior year, was placed on the backburner of his mind, while the whirlwind of work duties occupied the majority of his thoughts. 

He passed by Keith and Shiro a few times within the hour. Once when his father had been rising from the booth he had seated his friends in earlier. A second time while Keith was enjoying his plate of picadillo, and Shiro had been doing the same with his moros y cristianos. The third time, the waitress on duty for the section the duo’s booth was in, Abigail, was taking their dessert orders. Lance caught the girl rolling her green eyes as she walked away from the table, mumbling something about picky customers under her breath.

The last time he saw them, his friend’s stay had bled into the second hour. The demeanor of the two had changed. Keith’s head was planted on the table, empty plate to his left, and his arms secured themselves tightly around his stomach. Occasional moans of discomfort escaped his lips as Shiro conducted a verbal battle with Abigail.

“You said you could make it with no milk!”

“Well you never told me there was an allergy!”

“If someone asks for you not to put something in their food, you should respect that!”

“Shiro, please. Just take me home. I don’t care anymore. It hurts.” Keith’s voice came out pleading and strained.

“Woah, woah, woah. What’s going on here?” Lance interjected, stepping over toward the group.

“Keith’s flan was made with milk.”

“Wait! What?” He turned to his co-worker, “Did they specify no milk?”

“Yes, but—”

“What do you mean ‘but’? There’s no ‘buts’ here! If a customer asks for their food a certain way, you do it! No exceptions!”

“Okay, but nonsense shit like being gluten free for no reason just makes my job and the chef’s job harder!”

“For your information, Keith is lactose intolerant! He gets really sick if he has dairy! And thanks to you, he’s going to feel miserable all night! And what if he was deathly allergic to milk! If you feed a customer something they specifically asked not to have, you could kill them! Could you live with that?! If the answer’s yes, I don’t think I can look at you!”

“¡Tranquilízate!” His father entered the room, authority in every inch of his voice, “You’re going to scare customers!”

“¡Abigail no tiene dos dedos de frente! She gave Keith milk! Keith specifically asked for no milk, and she gave it to him anyway!”

“Abigail, is this true?”

“I didn’t know he was allergic.”

“We offer dairy free and gluten free options for a reason. Customers have allergies and dietary restrictions. If you don’t respect that, you can make someone sick or kill them. Do you understand?”

“I do.”

“Good. You’re also fired.”

“What?!” 

“You heard me. You’re fired. You ignored a customer’s request, and now he’s sick. Lance, you’re taking over her section for the rest of the night.” The man turned to Keith, “How are you feeling?”

“Terrible.”

“What did you eat today?”

“Picadillo and flan.”

“You wanted the dairy free one, right?”

The younger of the two nodded.

“How about I get you one to take home to eat when you’re feeling better? I’ll have Lance bring it over tonight. How did you two get here?”

“We walked.” A slight groan entered his voice as his arms squeezed around himself tighter.

“I’ll call you both an uber. Shiro, make sure he rests. If he needs anything, let me know. I’ll have Lance bring it over as soon as you need.”

“Thanks.” Shiro stood from the booth, moving over to Keith and helping him up from his seat.

Lance spoke as the brothers passed by him, “Hey Keith, text me how you’re doing, alright? I’ll come see you after my shift.” 

Keith nodded, and then him and Shiro were gone through the front doors.

Air escaped his lips before he returned to work. The final hours of his shift drug on painfully slow, mind tied to his friend’s possibly declining health, each vibration in his pocket triggering his anxiety and almost forcibly pushing his hand into his pocket to pull out the device hoping each message would be Keith.

When the clock hit the hour, a wave of relief hit his body, washing over him along with the realization that he was no longer imprisoned in the restaurant. His parting words to his father came out almost faster than he could move his own lips, barely leaving time to check his phone for messages from Keith before his car engine was on and his tires had hit the pavement of the road. His pitstop at the drugstore lasted less than ten minutes. He had gathered everything his friend had asked for in his basket in five, then took an extra five to pick up a few things that had not been asked for.

This was not the first time Lance had been with Keith when he had experienced his lactose intolerance symptoms. When they had dated, and even before, the poor boy would get frustrated with his inability to consume milk products, prompting him to eat and drink them anyway. Keith would be curled up afterwards, subjected to stomach pains, nausea, and occasional vomiting, with Lance by his side nursing him back to health due to his impulsive decisions. The memories were still vivid, leaving Lance with an easy time picking up technically nonessential items that would help Keith’s comfort in the end.

Okay, maybe it was  _ a bit _ extra that he was showing up at Matt and Shiro’s apartment to solely visit Keith, holding a bag full of tablets, waterbottles, camomile tea, and a small stuffed hippo toy, but, in all honesty, he really could not care any less than he did in that moment.

It was Shiro who answered his insistent knocking. “Hey, Lance.”

“Hey, Shiro. How’s Keith doing?”

“He’s still really sick.” Unfocused eyes shifted over toward the bathroom door as he spoke. Yet, it was not as if his eyes had really met Lance’s from the start. The older man stepped to the side, continuing to play with his bangs as he watched his friend enter into his apartment.

“When is Matt getting home?”

“I-I don’t know. He’s staying after to finish some work.”

“Okay, then you need to take it easy, alright? Keith’s going to be fine. He’s dealt with lactose intolerance for a long time, and he’s still here.”

“Yeah, but he’s been throwing up.”

“It’s not the first time. I’ll take over for a bit. You just focus on calming your nerves. With some treatment from Dr. Fuentes, Keith will be good as new. I promise.”

“Well, I’m perfectly content with the brother I have now. So, I’d really appreciate you not getting me a new one. Just do enough to make him healthy again.” Shiro gave him a weak smile.

“Gotcha Mr. Shirogane. One healthy, but not new, brother coming right up.” He shot his friend a pair of finger guns before exiting into the bathroom. The wooden door stood wide open, revealing a disheveled Keith hugging porcelain. The sick man’s hair was messed about, and his body was clothed in nothing but his black binder and a pair of worn out, old yoga pants. The wretched sound of the night’s dinner exiting Keith’s mouth filled the room, and Lance could sense the aura of misery radiating from him.

Yeah, Lance knew that pain all too well. He knew the exact way it felt to lose the contents of your stomach into a toilet bowl, and it was almost as if he could taste it himself in that moment, reminded of the memories where he knelt on the floor with a finger forced down his throat.

If he could do anything, he just wanted to take that feeling away from the man currently at his feet.

“You doing okay?” Lance knelt beside Keith. Purple eyes looked at him, giving him a look that was all too familiar, before the brown-haired man spoke again, “Yeah, yeah. I know. Stupid question. But I’m serious. How are you feeling right now? I brought you the tablets you asked for.”

Keith rested his head on the side of the bowl, pure misery radiating from his body, “Thanks.”

He sat on the floor, fixing his sitting position before rummaging through the plastic bag he had brought with him, “I got you some other stuff too.”

“You didn’t need to.”

“Well, I wanted to. I know how miserable you’re feeling right now. I was hoping I could help.”

“What happened to not treating each other like boyfriends?” Keith snarked.

“Still there, still there. But, you’re my friend now. And I have to take care of my friends. We’re friends now, right?”

“I don’t know. I guess?”

“I got you some water bottles. You need to stay hydrated. You’ve been throwing up, right?”

“Yeah.”

“Diarrhea?”

Keith let out a small groan.

“I’m taking that as a yes which means you need to be hydrated.”

“I’m really not up to drinking anything Lance.”

“You have to.”

“No.”

“Keith, if you don’t drink anything, then you’re going to have to go to the hospital and get an IV.”

“Leave me to die.”

“Keith.”

“What?”

“You know what.” Lance sighed before continuing, “Please, Keith? Just half a bottle for now. It’ll get the throw up taste out of your mouth if anything. Trust me, I’ve been hunched over a toilet more times than you can imagine. I know how horrible that taste is.”

“Will you stop bugging me if I drink a little?”

“Yep.”

“Fine.” Keith slumped his body against the bathtub. His left hand extended, reaching out for the object in question, “Hit me.”

Lance handed him a waterbottle, “You act like I’m giving you drugs or something.”

“I told you I was a pothead in Colorado.”

“Woah, woah, woah. You said you smoked. Not that you were a pothead. Those are two completely different things.”

The older of the two took a sip from the water bottle, “Yeah, no. I was a complete pothead. I got high  _ a lot _ . I guess maybe I just didn’t want to deal with what was going on in my life at that point though. So, I got high to avoid thinking about it.”

“Well, if you ever want to talk about that stuff, I’m a pair of open ears.”

“Thanks.” Keith wrapped his arms around his stomach once more, a moan of discomfort escaping his mouth.

“Are you done throwing up for now?”

“Yeah, I think so.”

He offered his hands to his friend, pulling Keith up when the man took up his offer. The two stepped over to the couch which had also been Keith’s bed for the last month or so. Once Keith had laid his body onto the cushions of the L-shaped couch, Lance stood to his full height. “Hey Shiro, can you boil some water for me? I’m going to make Keith some tea.”

“Lance, no. I’m really not up for it.”

“Hydration or hospital Keith. Besides, remember when I always made you tea for your stomach pains when we dated? I have the same tea. It’s camomile. It’s going to help with the bloating and stomach pains.”

“You’d seriously drive me there, wouldn’t you?”

“You know I would.”

“Fine, I’ll drink the tea.”

Lance’s lips curled into a smile. “Good. I’ll be right back.” His hands cupped Keith’s face, pulling him slightly forwards and planting his lips to the other man’s forehead. He turned his body to walk toward the kitchen.

He froze. Realization washed over him. He had just kissed Keith on the forehead. Something completely not okay. At all. Whatsoever.

A familiar tremble entered his body, his hands working their way into weak fists. He opened his mouth to speak, to say something, anything that would clarify the situation.

Nothing came out. Nothing  _ could _ come out. It was as if his voice was blocked off, snagged on something in his throat. 

Soon after, it was his breath too. No hyperventilation, just the horrid experience of choking on the air in his own lungs.

“I-I, Keith, I, I didn’t mean. I—sorry. I—”

A hand took Lance’s. “Lance, look at me.”

“I, I still—”

“Lance.”

“But—”

The hand holding his pulled him back slightly, turning him to face the couch again. “ _ Lance.” _ When he said nothing, Keith spoke again, words coming out a bit more softly, “It’s okay. Breathe.”

He let a small noise slip from his mouth, lowering his body to sit on the floor. His hand laid in Keith’s, the other’s thumb rubbing over the back of his fingers. It was calming, the repetitive motion relaxing his overactive nerves. “Sorry.” He managed to force out.

“Sorry for what?”

“Kissing you on the forehead. I just, I wasn’t thinking. It wasn’t romantic or anything, I promise. I didn’t want to make you uncomfortable. I just got into caretaker mode, and—”

“Lance, it’s fine.”

“But—”

“No ‘buts’. I know how you meant it, and I know how you think. You don’t. You just do. You’re just running on autopilot trying to fix the impending destruction of my intestines. I don’t think you’re weird. You’re trying to do what you can to make me feel better, and that’s you being nice.”

“Are you sure?” Blue eyes moved from the floor, to Keith’s, then back to the floor.

“I’m sure. I won’t be difficult. I’ll drink the tea.”

“Alright…” He stood on weak legs, almost shaking beneath him. His hands still trembled as he made Keith’s tea in the kitchen. Maybe it was too much to give Keith the stuffed toy he had picked up for him. He definitely already made things weird by planting one on Keith’s forehead. He would probably just make it weirder if he went through with giving him the toy. Yet, part of him felt so horrible, so negative, as if the whole situation Keith had just been placed in today was on him. And the feeling was not false, if he had stepped up to the plate, told his father he could wait tables instead of host today, maybe Keith would have been in his section. Lance could have taken Abigail’s spot, taken Keith’s order, and checked ten times to make sure the chef did not put a drop of lactose in his dessert. Instead, he did nothing but seat customers for over half his shift.

He could have prevented all of this. Prevented Keith’s stomach pains. Prevented the current awkward situation. Prevented his own anxiety. Instead, here he was making camomile tea with shaky hands.

He probably owed Keith that toy. It was his fault Keith was suffering. He owed him  _ something _ to compensate. 

He exited the kitchen area ready to serve his friend. Shiro had already pulled out a small table in front of Keith’s resting figure, leaving an open surface for Lance to gently place the drink. He gently shook Keith’s form, unsure if the man had fallen asleep or not. Purple eyes opened and glanced back at him, still fighting off the sandman’s spell. “I finished your tea. Can you drink it? I’ll let you sleep then.”

Keith rubbed at one eye with the base of his palm before shifting himself into a sitting position. Taking the cup with both hands, he sipped at the hot liquid.

“It’s camomile, so it’s probably going to make you drowsy too.” He took a seat next to Keith, “You don’t really need help with that though, do you?”

Keith yawned. “You do though.”

“I’m getting a bit better. I’m sleeping a bit more this week.”

“I’ve been awake a bit longer. Your texts are hard to just ignore.”

“You’d be surprised.”

“Well, it’s nice that someone who isn’t housing me actually cares enough to think of me.”

“You’re my friend. Of course I think of you.”

“Even when I was hopping around for five years, I never really had any friends. Well, I guess that was the whole point of that. But, it still makes it weird now.”

“Is that why you left? So you could be alone?”

“Kind of. I don’t know. It’s complicated to explain, and I’m really tired.”

Blue eyes fell to the ground, “You’re always tired. I just want to know what I did wrong, so I can fix it. I want to make my next relationship work, so if I just know what I did to chase you away, I can make the next one better.”

“I keep telling you, and I’m not lying, when I say it was one-hundred-percent a me thing.”

“Yeah, whatever. Anyway, I need to get home soon. But, I got you this. It was cute, and I was hoping it would help from an emotional standpoint.” He pulled out the stuffed toy from the plastic shopping bag. Handing it to Keith, he searched the other man’s face for a reaction. Only when Keith’s eyes softened, did Lance’s body relax. 

“You still remember?”

“You don’t spend years with someone and just forget important information like favorite animals. It was an impulse buy, but I figured it wouldn’t hurt to give it to you after what happened.”

“I’m astounded that you’re not married yet. How did your partners all give you up?”

He gave him a weak smile, “People just go separate ways sometimes.”

Keith tucked the toy under his arm as he went for another sip of tea.

“I have to get going, but I wanted to ask you something first.”

“Go for it.”

“Look, I, I just want clarification on this. Do you consider us friends? Like, I consider us friends, but if that’s weird I can stop. I just didn’t know…”

“I think of you as my friend.”

“Really? Friends?”

“Friends.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm actually personally really excited for the next few chapters :)
> 
> Speaking of new writing. I got a couple requests to see what Keith was doing during his five years away, and I was considering maybe writing a prequel fic about him once I finish One Last Spark? If anyone would be interested in that let me know.


	16. Chapter 16

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lance had never guessed that he could be sitting in these same chairs again, in the same order, Lotor to his right, and Zarkon and Haggar across from him. Years later, and he still did not want to deal with the evil in front of him any more than Lotor did.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the absence again. Finals kicked my ass, but here I am with the new chapter finally.
> 
> Trigger warning for mentions of eating disorders, mentions of abuse, use of homophobic language, and mentions of addiction.

_ “Lance, we’re on a budget. We can’t spend all our money right now. We still have to pay rent later this month.” _

_ “I know, I know. I just want the best for my girls.” He brought the back of her hand to his mouth and placed a short kiss on it, “I’ll even start working some extra hours, so we can buy some more stuff for the apartment and nursery room.” _

_ “Don’t overwork yourself. Remember, the doctor said to take it easy on your body and working in the restaurant is a really taxing job.”  _

_ “Yeah, yeah.” Lance waved his hand dismissively, “But that was when I wasn’t eating right. I’ve been eating every meal.” _

_ “And have you kept it down?” _

_ “I haven’t thrown up once, I promise.” _

_ “I believe you. And you’re doing amazing princesa.” _

_ He could feel his face heat up, a blush dusting his cheeks. A shy smile formed on his face. “Plax…” _

_ She pecked his lips, “I’ll stop. You’re just really cute when you get like that.”  _

_ Her hands rested on his shoulders, and he snaked his own to her sides. “I’m serious when I say that I want to be better. I want to be a good dad.” _

_ “And you will be. There’s no one else who I’d be willing to go through this with. And I wouldn’t have said yes to marrying you if I thought otherwise. Alright, mi cielo?” _

_ “Alright.” His hand found its way into one of her braids, thumb playing with the dyed blue ends. _

_ “If you’re starting to get a bit anxious, we can leave and shop online.” _

_ “Are you sure?” _

_ “Of course I am. I’d rather have you be comfortable while we get everything ready. If that means we’re shopping online, that’s okay with me. I know you want everything perfect too, and we’ll have more options online anyway.” _

_ His lips curled into a smile, blue eyes resting on brown ones, “How did I get so lucky to have you as a wife?” _

_ “Slow down there Mr. Fuentes,” she giggled, “We’re not married yet.” _

_ “Yeah, but you already said yes. Therefore, you’re going to be my wife soon.” _

_ “You still have to wait just a little longer.” _

_ “But I don’t want to wait.” Lance let a pout take over his face. _

_ “The best things in life are worth waiting for.” She lifted his chin with her finger, placing one of his hands on her baby bump. “I think she’ll agree with me too.” _

_ “Well, you two are the two best things in my life right now.” _

_ She smiled at him, wrapping her arms around his neck and pulling herself closer to him. “I love you too, Lance.” _

_ “Speaking of being parents,” He rested his chin on the top of her head, “What do you think about picking Godparents?” _

_ “Do you have ideas?” _

_ “Well, there’s Hunk. Or Shiro and Matt.” _

_ “You can’t push them together. They need to figure that out for themselves, Lance.” _

_ “I know, I know. But they obviously both have a spark between them.”  _

_ “Doesn’t matter. If they need time to figure it out, they need time to figure it out. Even if it takes years, don’t push them. Would you’ve liked it if our friends pushed us together before we were ready?” _

_ “No.” _

_ “Then let them be. They’ll figure it out for themselves eventually.” _

_ “Alright.” He hummed, slightly rocking with her in his arms, “What time is it?” _

_ “Mediodía.” _

_ “¡Coño!” He jumped back from her, “We’re supposed to be at Hunk’s place in thirty minutes!” He quickly grabbed her hand, intertwining their fingers and pulling her toward the front door of the shop. _

_ “Slow down!” The hint of laughter in Plaxum’s voice betrayed her attempt at a command. _

 

* * *

“Can I change the station?” Lance rested the side of his face on his knuckles.

“Go ahead.” Lotor replied, his eyes glued to the road outside the windshield.

He placed his hand on the knob by the console. His hand pushed it in different directions and the display screen changed with the corresponding movements. He scrolled through the different options, eventually settling on a local top hits station he had never tuned in to before. The upbeat chords filled the space between the two, conversation having died out long ago. 

Well, to be fair, there  _ were  _ things that he could talk with Lotor about. No, things he  _ should  _ talk with Lotor about but sitting in the other man’s car as they drove through the highway in what was quite frankly the middle of nowhere was not his ideal setting for confrontation.

New York had a lot of areas that just seemed to be out in the boonies, away from society and even a cell signal, but Lance was sure he had not seen a house for awhile now. In fact, the last house he had passed seemed to be thirty minutes ago.

Or maybe it was just the restlessness of being cooped up in a car for so long that was warping his perception of time.

Either way, the middle of nowhere had been given a new meaning throughout the duration of the last hour.

Another ten minutes passed, the sound of music the only thing saving the two of them from the true effects of a tense silence. He knew he should probably just bring it up. It would have to be asked sooner or later, and this might just be the best mood he would get the whole trip. In fact, there was really only a short frame of time where he could see Lotor keeping a positive attitude for the weekend, and it ended with the moment the other man stepped through the front door of his parents’ house. He had to say it now.

He weighed the outcomes. Worst case, Lotor kicked him out of the car. It would kill his bank account, but he could probably just call an Uber. Best case, it was nothing more than an average conversation.

He took his chance. Gnawing on his bottom lip absentmindedly, he spilled his thoughts. 

“I think we should talk.”

“Hm? About what?”

“How you treated me last time we saw each other.”

“What about it? We talked for three hours about it on the phone afterwards. You told me all about how you didn’t want to see me again, then you cried and told me that you didn’t mean it once I apologized. What else is there to talk about?”

“It’s not just the finger thing, Lotor.”

“Then what?”

“The fact that you don’t know shows that you think there’s no problem.”

“I never said that. You’re assuming things again. I’m listening, aren’t I?”

“I mean, yeah, but—”

“I want to hear what you have to say.”

“Look, just, the way you pushed my boundaries constantly was really just not okay.”

“As in?”

“Kissing me without asking, talking about love, doing things I explicitly asked you not to do.”

“It wasn’t the first time that you kissed me.”

“Yeah, and after we fucked I said that this was all a really bad idea, and I was just getting myself in way too deep, because I was upset about Plaxum leaving me.”

“You obviously didn’t love her that much, because you were more than willing to have my tongue in your mouth not long after.”

“Excuse me?! My life goes from, hey Lance, you’re going to be a dad, to oh yeah, your kid is dead and your fianceé left you, because you can’t get over your depression, and you expect me to just be okay? My life did a complete one-eighty, and everyone expects me to be fine. I thought you of all people would understand that I was  _ hurting _ .”

“You just seemed to have gotten over her quickly. That’s all.”

“No. You just wouldn’t understand, because I’m the only person you seriously dated.”

“What is with you always assuming things about me?” Lotor’s grip tightened on the steering wheel.

“ _ I’m _ assuming things about  _ you _ ?” Wetness pricked his eyes, “My whole life flipped upside down, and you’re assuming I’m just okay with that! Everyone thinks I’m just fucking fine, but I’m not! I’m fucking not! All I want anymore sometimes is to give up again, but I haven’t! And if I make a few questionable decisions along the way, who fucking cares? Because I’m still here, right? Or do you not even care, because you never visited me in the hospital!”

The car slid to the right, coming to a sharp halt on the shoulder of the highway. “Excuse me? I never visited you?!”

“Once! You visited me once! And you  _ cheated _ on me while I was there!”

“I never did that!”

“Don’t fucking bullshit me Lotor! I saw you kiss Acxa! She told me everything! If you’re going to go on about still having feelings for me at least start being honest!”

“I’m not dealing with this.” Long fingers shifted the car back into drive while the other hand guided the vehicle back into traffic.

“Lotor!”

No response.

“Lotor, please.” He sniffled, suddenly acutely aware of the wetness falling down his cheeks, “I just want to talk this out.” 

More silence from the man sitting next to him. He watched him, the way Lotor’s purple eyes refused to budge from the road, neglecting Lance of the attention he had begun to so desperately seek since it had been ripped away from him.

He pulled his sweatshirt hood over his head, dragging the collar upwards to hide what he could of his face. It was pointless. Lotor did not care. He could waste away in the passenger seat next to the man, and there would not be one word or protest against it.

His hand brushed the latch on the side of the car. It would be so easy, just to lift it and tumble himself out of the moving vehicle, body slamming onto the pavement. If the initial impact did not bang him up badly enough, then the cars following behind them would certainly finish the job. A quick end to a miserable existence.

And then, as if Lotor had read his thoughts, the car was halted on the side of the highway once again. A hand reached out to take his, “Lance…”

He batted the other man’s hand away. Crossing his arms, he sank further into the leather seat, “What do you want?”

A sigh escaped Lotor’s lips. Turning off the car, he turned his body toward Lance. “Come here.”

“What?”

“I said come here.”

Lance looked over, blue eyes scanning the scenario for any form of malice. Hesitantly, he unbuckled his seatbelt and slid himself closer to Lotor. Strong arms wrapped around him, and he found himself leaning in closer on his own accord. A kiss was planted onto his head.

“I’m sorry, alright. We can talk.”

“Really? No bullshit?”

“None. I promise. Contrary to what you believe, I really don’t like seeing you cry.”

“I hate when you do this, you know.” He sniffed before continuing his thoughts, “You act like you don’t care, then you show that you do, and you confuse the hell out of me.”

“I apologize. How can I make it better?”

“I don’t want a quick fix, Lotor. There needs to be some real fucking changes if you want to stay in my life this time.”

“Then what am I to you?”

“I… what?”

“You heard my question, Lance. What am I to you?”

He tilted his head up to meet Lotor’s eyes, “What do you mean ‘what am I to you’?”

“Don’t avoid it. Let’s put a label on this before we get into any talk of who needs to change what.”

“I… I don’t know Lotor. Plaxum and I were really serious. I don’t think I’m really ready for anything super serious.”

“It’s almost been six months. Either you’re over her, or you’re not. I’m not going to keep wasting my time with you if you’re not going to decide on  _ something _ soon.”

His breath stopped for a moment. Lotor’s words repeated themselves through his thoughts. Everything, the whole friendship that he had managed to rekindle and build up with Lotor, suddenly seemed so breakable, so fragile, as if it was a game of jenga. One wrong move and the whole thing would collapse in front of him. And that would be it. Another support system he had tried to create in his life torn down in the blink of an eye. No. He could not afford that outcome.

“What happened to being okay with being friends?”

“Don’t play dumb. You know what I wanted from the beginning.”

“No. You told me you were okay with not dating.”

“Well, I changed my mind, just like you did about me. So what is it, Lance? Are we going to be a thing or not?”

“I, I don’t know!” He pushed away from Lotor’s body. “This is a really sudden thing to just throw at me from nowhere!”

“Don’t yell at me.” Lotor’s words were short and strong. Authority dripped from his tone, “I want you to give me an answer now.”

“Fine! Fine! Fine! We can be a thing!” He gasped for breath, the all too dreadful but familiar feeling of pseudo suffocation gripping at his lungs. “But, rules! Rules, there are going to be rules!”

Lotor leaned his elbow on the back of his seat, “Spill it.” 

He took a moment to compose himself, digging his nails into his wrist to distract from his building anxiety, “No hitting. If you lay a hand on me, I’m ending it on the spot. I’m not putting myself through that again. I don’t care how angry you are, or how bad you feel afterwards, there’s no fucking hitting. Zero tolerance policy. And, if you pull any of that other crazy shit like refusing to let me talk to people or handcuffing me to a pillar in our kitchen, I’m calling the cops.”

There was a short pause, as if Lotor needed to digest the conditions Lance had just laid out on the table. After a few moments, he spoke, “Fine.” But, something odd about the compliance struck Lance. The expression on Lotor’s face seemed less than satisfied with the agreement.

“What about that do you have an issue with?”

“You know I have anxiety.”

“Yeah, and you can’t keep dealing with it by isolating me from everyone you can. I get it, your parents fucked you up. But I’m a person too. And if you can’t trust that I won’t hurt you, then you shouldn’t date me. It’s that simple.”

“Then why did you decide to talk to me again? You obviously don’t trust me not to hurt you this time around.”

“Because you  _ broke my finger _ ! I have every right to be afraid that you’ll hurt me! It’s still in a cast, because  _ you _ couldn’t trust me.”

“And I was right, because you lied to me.”

“As if you haven’t lied to me before!” He changed his tone of voice to mock Lotor’s own, “I’m not fucking Acxa, Lance! I’m going to visit you all the time in the hospital, I promise! I never said those mean things to you, your self-esteem is just so low your brain made that up!” Lance switched his voice back to his normal tone before continuing, “Need I go on? Because I can vividly tell you a long list.”

Okay, maybe that had not been the best idea in retrospect. Lotor pressed his lips into a thin line, accompanying the action with a slow blink before he released the expression. If Lance had not known better, he would have mistaken the small exhale that came from the other man as a laugh. A small curl of lips made a home on Lotor’s face, “No. You don’t need to.”

Yeah, definitely not the best idea. Now he had a car ride with an angry Lotor to deal with. Although it was not the same type of anger that had resulted in bruises on his skin in the past, it still left the younger of the two to bask in the unsettling aura.

But, it was still a now or never. He had two more requirements for the man in the driver’s seat, and if he did not speak now, there was no way he would be able get them met. Angry Lotor or not, he had to speak.

“There’s something else. If we’re going to be together, that is.”

“And, what is that? You’ve already asked for quite a lot, don’t you think?” Lotor’s fingers tapped harshly against the steering wheel.

“We’re taking this slow. Real slow. We’re going to ease into this. Very, very slowly.”

Lotor leaned back into the seat, “And how do you suppose we do that then?”

“I don’t know. How about we start by being a low-key thing. When we’re both in town together, you’re my boyfriend. When we’re apart, I’m still emotionally committed to you, but we can still mess around with other people—”

“I don’t like that.”

“Then you shouldn’t have cheated on me last time we dated. You should understand that I’m going to have a hard time trusting you again right off the bat.”

“I’m a different person from then.”

“Yeah, and so am I. And I’m going to put my foot down just as much as you do in this relationship this time. Besides, you’re afraid of letting me in too much, and I’m afraid of you running around behind my back. This should work for both of us. When you’re ready to trust me enough to let me talk to other people without you reading the messages or having a freak out, and I can trust you to be faithful, then we can talk about being exclusive.” When Lotor said nothing, Lance continued on, “Look, there’s a distance between us, too. We don’t get to see each other often, and I’m going to be honest, I don’t know how I feel about a long distance thing right now.”

Silence, again. Lotor’s fingers drummed against the dashboard of his car, “Alright. We can try it.”

“Good.” Lance began to relax into the passenger seat, “One last thing.”

“And what would that be? You’ve asked for a lot.” Lotor’s tone was short, fingers still drumming against the dashboard. “I could tell you no and leave you right now.”

“Can I talk before you assume anything about what I’m about to ask?” Lance snapped. He took a calming breath, then continued, “You’re going to therapy. And not for a week, not for a month. No, you’re  _ staying _ in therapy and going to every session. I’m not going to let you use the excuse that your mental health is messed up to treat me badly.”

“I already told you that I have been. Did you not believe me?”

“I never said I didn’t believe you. I’m just putting it down as a rule. As long as we’re together, you have to be at least trying to learn how to cope with your problems in a way that doesn’t involve controlling people.”

Lotor huffed. His fingers gripped the steering wheel, “Is that all, your highness?”

“Yes, actually. I’m done. I think those four things are completely appropriate for both of us.”

“Fine. We’ll try it your way.” Lotor shifted the car back into drive, sliding it back onto the highway. 

He felt lighter, as if a weight had been lifted off his chest. No more uncertainty, no more ambiguity. He knew where Lotor stood, and Lotor knew where he stood. This relationship would be functional this time around. No more constant fighting that quickly made way for harsh insults and bruises. He was going to have a lasting relationship.

It hit him like a ton of bricks. 

Relationship.

Boyfriend.

_ Lotor’s boyfriend _ .

Fuck.

He had  _ not _ just agreed to give Lotor of all people a second chance at a romantic relationship, had he?

He had just agreed to give the ex-boyfriend who had hit him on multiple occasions and torn apart his mental health until it was in nothing but a messy array of threads that needed to be woven back together a second chance with him. But, he could barely convince himself that Keith was his friend until this week. Keith, the man who drove him to urgent care and held him while he cried in the back of Matt’s car because of his own disarrayed emotions. The one who had soothed his panic attack in Shiro and Matt’s apartment and did not get angered with him for his fears of being physically hurt.

No. It did not matter if Keith had proven himself as a good guy. It was Lotor that wanted him. Not Keith. If Lance wanted any shot at a relationship, he needed to take the one he had just been given. If he did not, then he would be alone.

No. Alone was not an option. This relationship was going to work. He would make sure of it. Even if it took him sinking his claws into it and refusing to ever let go, he would make the relationship successful.

Maybe Lotor was not that bad anyway. There was a chance that he could just be holding a grudge. If Keith could be so nice, so genuine with him, and he had not seen him as a potential partner but had seen Lotor as one, then Lotor had to be somewhere along the same lines of good that Keith was. There was no other explanation. 

Well, unless he was  _ really _ fucked up and being in a toxic relationship satisfied some sort of masochistic desire that he had not been consciously aware of.

Yeah, the former seemed like something he would much rather deal with at the moment.

The multiple trains of thought were too much, too taxing considering the night he still had to endure later on. He willed himself to sleep, ignore where this thought pattern would leave him. Focusing on the low hum of the car tires against the road, he cursed his brain for having the unfortunate trait of insomnia. Then cursed Keith for getting his mind off his late night anxiety train by demanding that Lance explain the significance of a specific meme to him. He had spent the early hours of the night tapping words away to Keith in the darkness of his bedroom until he had felt relaxed enough to doze off. If he had just let the insomnia win earlier he could be sleeping at this very moment.

Shifting in his seat, he weighed his options. Start a conversation with an already peeved Lotor, poke the beast by using his phone for more than a few minutes, or attempt to sleep again.

The latter was the best idea, no doubt.

With a rested brain, this was going to be one long remainder of a drive.

His umpteenth attempt at sleep in the passenger seat was interrupted by the halt of the vehicle. Lotor wordlessly stepped out, as if Lance did not exist with him. Blue eyes followed the taller man’s figure as he strolled to the passenger side of the car. 

The door rose as Lance rubbed the last of sleep from his eyes. He stepped out and joined Lotor. Leaning against the side of the car, his body slightly grazing Lotor’s own, he looked over. The other man was clad in a pale gray knit sweater, washed out black skinny jeans, and black boots. A scarf was draped around his neck, and a shiny rectangular metal object rested in his hand. He brought it to his lips, purple eyes gazing dully at the large house in front of them.

“Are you sure you want to go into that house already drinking?”

“Do you expect me to get through this without it?”

Lance sighed, leaning into the other man slightly, “You have to drive to the hotel after this.”

“No.  _ You _ have to drive to the hotel.”

“Well, it would’ve been nice to ask me first.”

“Well, too late now.”

“Can you please just not drink  _ too _ much while we’re here? Your parents are just going to use it to be dicks if you do.”

“I make no promises.”

“Lotor…”

“What?” Lotor took another sip from the flask. 

“Lotor, you know what.” His voice stayed soft, his tone laced with concern.

“Well excuse me Lance, for not wanting to deal with the two people who made my childhood hell.”

“I’ve been the one telling you to stop dealing with them.” Lance pointed out, “You just never listen to me.”

“I’ve been listening to your nagging for this whole goddamn trip. Lay off.” Lotor snapped, his voice growing louder the further he got into his sentence.

“You don’t have to be an ass to me just because you’re angry about being here! I didn’t put you in this position! I didn’t have to come here with you! I know your parents don’t like me anyway! Bringing me here doesn’t help anyone but  _ your _ confidence to deal with them!”

“Can you stop being annoying for two fucking minutes?!” Lotor snarled, purple eyes glaring at the smaller man. “All you ever do is try and tell me what to do! That’s what you spent this entire trip doing so far! So, do everyone a favor and shut the fuck up!”

“Stop yelling at me!” He stared back at the other man, silently begging himself not to fall to the weight of the intense gaze crushing him. 

“Then stop being annoying.” Lotor said flatly. He turned his attention back to the flask in his hand, lips now occupied with another task.

Blue eyes dropped toward the ground, gaze meeting the stone driveway Lotor had parked his car in. He bit his lip, forcing himself to breathe in, then out, fighting away the negative emotions bubbling to the surface.

This was going to be a rough weekend.

Lotor placed the metal object back into the inside pocket of his winter coat. A few more seconds of silence passed between them before Lotor passed air through his lips and decided to speak once more, “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have snapped.”

Or maybe not. 

To be honest, that was new. Their previous relationship was not completely devoid of apologies and making up for wrong doings, but the imbalance was strikingly obvious. Lance’s apologies had been much more frequent, constantly laced with panic from walking on eggshells at his every waking moment, while Lotor’s apologies had always come much later on, almost exclusively after a fight had escalated to violence. It was as if his apologetic words could only manifest once things had escalated to the point where there were only inches left before the relationship crumbled beneath the both of them, as if he needed to save something that was dear to him.

It was not ideal, but Lance had learned to take what he could get. Wishing for what he could not have from his partners would do nothing but strain the relationship further.

But, this? Well, this peaked his interest and his hope that the relationship he had just gotten himself involved in just might work, that it had a chance to be a positive experience.

Lance leaned into Lotor’s side, head fitting into place on the front of the other man’s shoulder, “It’s alright. I’m sorry too. I started the yelling.”

“Let’s just go in and get this over with. The sooner this night ends, the better.” Lotor locked the car with the click of a button, begrudgingly walking toward the steps at the end of the large stone driveway. The top was framed with two large pillars at each side, the wooden double door entrance placed perfectly in the middle. The stone exterior of the house contrasted with the style of house he had grown accustomed to seeing Lotor’s parents reside in. This had been only the second time that he had visited their Pennsylvania house, the first time having been while it had just been him and Lotor, family nowhere in sight. Every other visit to Lotor’s family had either been done in their New York and Connecticut houses. Lotor had once mentioned that these three were not the only houses either, that his family owned at least three others, with at least one of them not actually being in the country.

Lotor rang the doorbell to the side of the doors. The pair was quickly answered by a man dressed in a black suit, blue tie to match. He let them into the house, taking Lotor’s jacket and addressing him with formalities that Lance had not heard directed at the other man in years. They were ushered into the kitchen shortly after.

Stepping inside one of Lotor’s family houses had always been so disorienting for Lance. Going from a family where his parents had moved to a new country with almost nothing and worked their way into a comfortable living, to a family where the aura seemed almost consumed by a feeling of distance and forced formalities. The values were so different, family and love as the center of Lance’s world, money and image the center of Lotor’s.

This time felt no different.

Zarkon and Haggar were already seated at the large mahogany dining table. It was devoid of food, only sullied by the alcohol-filled glasses that had made their homes in front of the pair in question. 

Haggar, or Honvera, as she had professionally introduced herself to Lance at their first meeting, was clad in a black dress. It came above her chest in a U-shape, then pulled the fabric to her right side with something that Lance could only describe as possibly looking somewhat like a broach covered in an array of a white gemstone he could not pinpoint. A necklace with a diamond pendant laid on her neck, and her silver hair had been placed up in a bun that did not match with the rest of her attire. Her hair was littered with split ends and strands poking out. No accessories to accompany it either. It was as if a bun was the only way she could keep the dead locks seemingly presentable. 

No. That was definitely the case. Lotor had not been wrong to be weary of his parents’ image of perfection with him out of the house.

Zarkon sat beside her, dressed in a gray, collared button up shirt. The tie that snuggly hung around his neck was only a few shades darker. His expression stayed stoic as Lance and Lotor joined him and Haggar at the table, taking a sip from his glass as intimidating eyes watched the pair. The stench of whiskey radiated from his half-empty drink, the only giveaway to the real emotions of the situation.

It had been years since Lance had sat across from Lotor’s parents like this, and yet, it was as if nothing had changed at all. Haggar was still a mess beyond words, and Zarkon still seemed ready to attack at the drop of a hat.

Sitting there was unpleasant and uncomfortable, but growing up in this atmosphere? Lotor had his sympathies. 

“So, father,” The word left Lotor’s lips with more than a hint of disdain, “What is so important that you made me drive all the way from New York to Pennsylvania? I had to take a day off work just to accommodate your request. I know you hate when your employees aren’t at peak productivity.”

“My apologies. I didn’t realize visiting your own parents was so inconvenient for you. Your mother and I had business to attend to here. Unlike some of the people at this table, I actually have a life of importance.”

“There’s no need to lie to me father. I know both of you were at the New York house just two days ago. It’s almost as if you came out here and insisted that I meet you this weekend, and this weekend only, because you wanted to make it as difficult as possible for me.” The butler from earlier poured red wine into Lotor’s glass. He took a sip before continuing, “And mother, I know that you know for a fact that I was in New York. In fact, you have people you pay for that information, don’t you?”

“No one told you you could speak.” Zarkon replied harshly.

“I didn’t know that I needed permission. Unfortunately, I’m not a child anymore and can speak when I please.” Lotor brought the glass back to his lips, sipping at his wine before he spoke again, “Not as if I should expect either of you to know that though.”

“I knew you would always be useless, but I was hoping that at least you would have learned to become less of a brat. I guess my hopes are too high.”

Lance glanced to his side. Carefully, he took Lotor’s free hand into his own, sliding his fingers in the spaces between Lotor’s own. With a gentle squeeze to the other man’s hand, he set his gaze on Lotor’s glass, then Zarkon’s, taking careful note of each man’s rate of alcohol consumption. 

The conversation drug on in the same manner it had started. Dinner was served, and glasses were emptied. Each round the family butler made, pouring a new glass of each individual's liquid of choice, only led to looser lips and feistier comments. The whole engagement seemed to go nowhere, staying in a limbo of harsh comments, too far from pleasant conversation, too far from crossing the line into violent territory. Yet, the whole scene just had Lance fighting tremors from his hands.

“So, father,” Lotor swirled around the remaining liquid in the bottom of his glass. Purple eyes shifted from the movement of the liquid, then to Zarkon’s face. If Lance had not known better, it would have seemed as if Lotor had made direct eye contact with the older man. But, he knew Lotor, knew that those strong eyes were not staring into Zarkon’s, but past his father’s face. Feigning eye contact was something Lance had witnessed Lotor do often, especially with family, “Why exactly did you bring me here? There has to be something besides a friendly visit, because you miss me on your mind.”

“I told you I don’t want to hear your voice, didn’t I?” Zarkon glared at his son, “It’s bad enough I have to look at you, at least give me the gift of silence. I had eighteen years of watching you grow into a failure, I don’t need anymore.”

Lotor’s eyes shifted back to the glass in his hand before he downed the rest of the remaining liquid in one swift movement.

“Besides, to top it off, you bring  _ him _ .” Zarkon’s gaze focused on Lance, “Of everyone, you decide to bring him. A lazy dropout who just wants to mooch off of you. Did you honestly ever think  _ he’d _ be good enough to give the Sincline name? Are you just trying to piss me off at this point? You grow up to be a faggot, then bring home someone even more worthless than yourself. You—”

“I’d prefer if Lance was left out of this.” Lotor growled.

“Do not take that tone with me, Lotor.” Zarkon warned.

“Or what? You’ll hit me? May I remind you that I’m twenty-four-years-old? Lay one hand on me and I will call the police and have you charged with assault.”

“You will not speak back to your father, Lotor!” Haggar snapped, “He deserves your respect.”

“Respect? Excuse me? Since when were either of you deserving of respect? I grew up getting told I shouldn’t speak until I was spoken to, that anything I did wasn’t important! I got beaten and told I wasn’t wanted by you!” Lotor’s index finger pointed accusingly at Zarkon. “And you!” His accusations shifted to Haggar, “You spent more of your time concerned about how you were going to get your next bottle of prescription medication, which by the way I knew was not actually for you even as a child, than you did caring for your own son. And, instead of just admitting that you have a problem, you refused to ever go to rehab and just fed your addiction. So, do not ever tell me that either of you are deserving of respect from me!” He slammed a fist down on the table.

Lance jumped. So did his heart, the organ hammering away in his chest at a rate that could not be healthy.

Zarkon stood from the table, his chair sliding out loudly from behind him as he threw his napkin down next to his plate. He opened his mouth to speak, but Lotor cut him off before he could.

“No. I’m done. Tell me why I’m here.”

“I’m moving your position.”

“Excuse me?”

“You’re moving to the office in Connecticut.”

“And you’re just going to assume I’m okay with this? You do realize that I have a life in New York, right? I have friends, a boyfriend. You want me to pack it all up as if it’s nothing?!”

“This is your job.”

“A job in a company that I’m never going to own, because you prefer Sendak over your own son.”

“If you had actually grown up to be worthy of the Sincline name then maybe you’d be getting the company.”

“Don’t pull that bull shit on me! You never had any intent to give me anything!”

“You’re moving to the Connecticut office, and that’s final!”

“I refuse.”

“Then you’re fired. And I will make damn sure that you will never get another job in your lifetime. I will tarnish your name and your resume so badly that you’ll struggle to get work at a gas station.”

“Excuse me?”

“I’m sure that little trophy boy of yours would ditch you too if you suddenly didn’t have a job.”

“Lance has nothing to do with this! And all you’ve ever cared about in your entire life was just money, money, money! Once the company took off, you forgot I even existed!”

“I don’t have time for this, and I don’t have time for you. Either you take the offer, and move to Connecticut, or you don’t. But if you don’t, you will never work another day in your life, and you will be getting nothing from the family ever again. You will live on the streets.”

Silence filled the room. And then Lance saw it. That look in those purple eyes. The same one that had terrified Lance each time it had appeared.

Lotor was going to explode, and Lance was going to be on the receiving end of it the moment the two of them were alone again.

Possibilities flooded his mind. He had choices, right? 

He did. He had two. Option one, stall long enough to have Lotor explode on Zarkon instead of him. It would probably end with fighting and a call to the police, but he could personally make it out with minimal harm. Yet, a fight between Lotor and his father was not the situation he wanted to create. Option two, leave the house with Lotor and find a way to calm him down before things escalated out of control. It was riskier, but it also was a much more familiar situation. Besides, Lotor had made the promise of no physical violence, so the option was not entirely dangerous.

“Fine. I’ll move.” Lotor’s hand gripped Lance’s wrist harshly as he stood from his seat, “We’re leaving. I don’t need to deal with this.”

Lance hissed at the contact, “Lotor, that hurts!”

“Suck it up!” Lotor yanked him up. Ignoring the pained noise that escaped from the other man, he turned towards the door, storming out of the house with barely a thought to retrieving their coats.

The car doors rose, and Lance was thrown in. Back hitting the console roughly, panicked blue eyes searched for any emotion he could find in the other man. Nothing. Nothing, but anger.

Lotor entered through the passenger side, “Drive.”

“L-look, Lotor, why don’t we get liquor, then, then spend some time just relaxing? Get our minds off of, off of what just happened.”

“ _ I said _ , drive.” Lotor said dangerously.

“We can get, get other stuff. You, you know? Have fun.”

“I said to drive, you useless shit!”

His foot had never hit a pedal quicker in his life.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm definitely considering making the Keith prequel after finishing this fic. I'm also kinda interested in writing a possible prequel about Keith and Lance back when they were teenagers, since I do have a lot of this story and world planned out outside of what is going to get told in this story.
> 
> Now that finals are over, I might try and write more chapters in advance so I can get back to a more consistent schedule. But, I can't promise anything just yet, since I need to see if my five weeks off will actually be five weeks off lol


	17. Chapter 17

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It doesn't seem to matter how many times this happens, or how many chances he gives Lotor, it always seems to end the same way.
> 
> At least this time he has Keith to help him with the aftermath.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> An update only a week from last week! I'm wondering if I can pull this off until my spring semester starts...
> 
> This chapter does start out with some very heavy content so trigger warning for eating disorders (big one), domestic abuse, vague dubcon, mentions of transphobia, and suicidal thoughts. Also, there is a lot of talk about sex in both serious and joking tones, so heads up in case that would be something anyone would like to be aware of.

If Lance needed to do anything these days, it was to watch himself. His moods, his thoughts, his actions, everything. Because there was no way the night should have ended like this, no way he should be in this situation. But, once again, it became easy to dismiss better judgement when, deep down, there was no genuine feelings of self care. No, in fact, if anything resided that deep down inside of him, it was self loathing, just pure unadulterated hatred for himself that made it less and less difficult to put his own long term wellbeing on the back burner.

It was easy for the room to quickly be littered with empty bottles and for clothing to be shed across the floor piece by piece by a hand that was not his own. Easy to lock lips with someone who he had promised himself he would not. Easy to lose himself in the attention he received through open mouth kisses against his skin and touches against sensitive parts of his body.

If only it was just as easy to ignore his own boundaries, to lie there on the hotel mattress until Lotor was done and had lost interest in continuing their activity of choice. But, no, he could no longer will himself into the same submission that he had used during his first relationship with the man above him. Maybe it was the time apart that altered his way of thinking, or maybe it was the strengthened and enlarged support system he had managed to gather since college, but some part of himself refused to push his own wellbeing to the side in that moment. The same moment that he had told Lotor that dreaded two letter word. The same word that started this whole scenario.

Somehow, despite the reaction, he did not quite regret saying it.

The only thing he could bring himself to do was loathe his very being for no longer having the strength to put up with unpleasant moments in his life. That, and open the doors to his rising anger once Lotor had dropped the first deprecating word.

“You’re worthless, you know that Lance?” Lotor said, some of his words coming out less defined due to his alcohol-induced slur, “You can’t even fucking, can’t even drive a car when I ask you to. How many times did I have to ask you to do one simple task? Three! All you ever do is fucking complain, and you’ve never brought anything to our stupid fucking relationship either!”

“All because I don’t want to fuck?!” Lance snapped back, angry tears threatening to break through his eyes.

“You thought you had, had any fucking use besides being a hole to stick my dick in? You’re so cute.”

“Stop being an ass! I told you I didn’t want to have sex when this trip started!”

“You weren’t complaining when I was sucking your dick!” Lotor shoved him off the bed as he spoke. If Lotor had not been so intoxicated, Lance knew it would have been a much harder blow to take. Luckily, he only tumbled onto the off-white carpeted floor beneath him.

“Maybe I just don’t want a dick up my ass right now! Especially not the dick attached to the person who just shoved me! I said no more fucking hitting! What happened to the rules?!”

“If I had actually hit you, you would be in a lot more pain right now. You’re just whining because you know I’m fucking right.”

“Excuse me?! No! Not another hand from here on out! Nothing! Got it?!”

“Ha! You think you should be making, be making the rules? You really think you fucking matter, don’t you?”

“Is that all I  _ still _ am to you? Just someone to have sex with?”

“That’s all you’ve ever been to anyone.” Lotor slurred, grabbing a nearby bottle and bringing it messily to his lips. His other hand rested his weight on the nearby nightstand.

“Well, I  _ thought _ about blowing you instead. But now, just deal with your blue balls, because there’s no way in hell that’s happening.”

“As if anyone would want your mouth there. Remember all those times I said you were good at sucking dick? I lied.”

“Then go spend your money on a whore!”

“I have one right here.”

“Excuse me?!”

“You heard me. You’ll put out for anyone who gives you half an ounce of attention.” Lotor slurred, “And it’s great, because I don’t need to pay you.”

“That’s not true at all!”

“You’re standing here naked right now, aren’t you?”

“Fuck off! If you hadn’t been drinking so much, we wouldn’t even be fighting! I just wanted to make you feel better, because I care about you! Good to know it’s one sided!”

“Trust me, all your relationships have been.”

“You don’t know anything about Keith and Plaxum!”

“I know enough about you to know any relationship you managed to be in was doomed from the start.”

“What does that say about us then?!”

“That I’m the only one who could ever put up with you.”

“I dated Keith for over three years!”

“And I bet he was miserable the whole time.”

“You know nothing about him!”

“You’re so defensive! You like him, don’t you?”

“He’s my friend! I’m allowed to have those!”

“I bet you’re getting a good dicking from him! I bet that’s why you said you want an open relationship!”

“It’s not like that!”

“Sure it’s not! Have fun getting fucked by a loser!”

“Stop talking about Keith like that!”

“You attract people like yourself. Should’ve guessed you’re sucking his dick!” Lotor brought the bottle back to his lips, spilling a little as he drank.

“Fuck off! If you’re going to act like this, we should just break up now!” Lance grabbed his boxers from off the floor. He shoved them back on. “You’re an asshole, Lotor. You haven’t changed at all.”

“I’m the only one who ever, who’ll ever love you.”

“You call  _ this _ love?! The only difference from last time we were together is that you’re not fucking hitting me right now! You’re still talking to me like I’m trash! I don’t love you! And I never will!”

“You think you can last in any other relationship? I’m the best you’ll ever get!”

“I don’t have to listen to this!”

He was forced against a wall, Lotor’s weight laying on him. The proximity only heightened his awareness of the stench of liquor on Lotor’s breath. There was no way Lance could get away with saying that he had not had his fair share of drinks as well, but his intake for the night did not nearly compare to that of the man who had him cornered. 

Lotor kept one hand planted on the wall beside Lance, pressing the majority of his weight onto the structure. The other hand made movements way too intimate and way too personal to be appropriate for the situation against Lance’s skin. “You want to know why Plaxum really left you? Why Keith really left you?” He pressed his lips against the skin of Lance’s neck, though it was not intimate. More like mocking. Rubbing it in Lance’s face that he had this power over him, that he could have the younger man in this position, and it would never once be the other way around. “It’s because all you ever do is whine and cry about your life. You just mope, and no one wants to be around that. I was even glad when you broke up with me. But, then I realized that I just needed to take one for the team and just put up with you, because no one else ever would. You delude yourself into thinking you would’ve been a good dad. Psssh, you’re not even a good person. Your daughter would’ve  _ hated _ you, just like Plaxum did. She only talks to you now, because she pities you. That’s why anyone deals with your bull shit. And any kid of yours would’ve just of been just as fucked up as you.”

“Fuck off!” Lance spat, his body betraying him as it curled in on itself in a desperate attempt to get away from the other man.

A drunken laugh slipped from Lotor’s mouth, “I’m the only one who’ll ever want you. Without me, you’ll be alone. That’s it. And I know you. I know you couldn’t possibly want to live knowing your life would be nothing but loneliness. And no amount of making yourself throw up is going to change it, not that it hurts your odds. Those ugly scars on your arms sure are revolting though. Don’t know how I manage to look past  _ that  _ and still get a boner, so maybe the throwing up really is helping.”

“Look, I get it. I’m not really a catch. I know. You don’t have to keep telling me.” Lance’s voice came out soft enough that it might have been inaudible if he had not been alone in the room with Lotor.

“You give yourself too much credit.” Lotor’s hand began to slide down from his waist to lower regions of his body, “You’re not a catch at all. Nothing. Zero. Worthless. You’re barely half decent at sex, and it was the only thing you had going for you. Never met a slut who managed to be as bad as you in bed. Pathetic. And now you’re just going to cry about it, aren’t you? No. No, I know you. You’re going to cut yourself over it. I bet I could find the boxcutter in your bag if I looked. Quite the attention whore. You don’t even try and cover up your arms. I want to puke whenever I look at them. Do you just look at them whenever you go to make yourself throw up? I would.”

He stood there, blue eyes refusing to make eye contact with the set of purple ones above him. Hot liquid rolled down his cheeks, and he suddenly felt so vulnerable, so exposed. His arms came over his chest, crossing his body to hide himself. His voice broke as he spoke his last words of defense, “Leave me alone…”

“No. You’re nothing without me. Without me, you’re alone. Trust me, Keith just wants you for an easy fuck. That’s it. He doesn’t care about you past that. If he did, he wouldn’t of dumped you. Same with Plaxum. She probably never loved you. She was just stuck with you, since you knocked her up. Once that kid died, she was probably relieved to be able to get away from you. I choose to be with you. So why don’t you just be a good pet and get yourself back in bed.”

Lance squeezed his eyes shut and shook his head.

“Is that really what you want?”

A simple nod of the head, and his body was tossed roughly onto the floor. 

“Then you’re worthless to me too.”

“Lotor, no!” He quickly sat up, as if he had only tripped.

“Get out of my sight. I don’t want to look at you.” Lotor finished the remaining liquid in the bottle he had been drinking from.

“Please—” Lance scrambled to his feet.

“I said leave! You can’t even follow fucking directions! No wonder your family is sick of you!”

“I’ll, I’ll be good. I’ll—”

“Tell me what I said.”

“That, that I’m worthless…” Lance whispered, tripping over words and his own quickening breaths.

“And what else?”

“You don’t want to look at me…”

“Then why are you still here?”

“Lotor—” His sentence was cut off by the new need to dodge a glass bottle.

“ _ Leave! _ ”

Without another word, he grabbed his remaining missing articles of clothing from the floor and exited into the second area of their hotel room. Closing the door behind him, he sat himself down on the couch. The room was nothing but a mini fridge, a table for two, a pullout couch, and a television. The bed the pair was supposed to share for the trip just so happened to be conveniently located in the room Lotor was occupying, along with any spare sheets, so his best chance at any sleep was to trust the pull out bed and hope his clothes could keep him warm enough for the night. 

Tear-ridden eyes fell onto his bag. Lotor had been right, the boxcutter was in his duffle bag. He packed it on every trip, even though he did not always have intent to use it. He was never sure why he always felt so compelled to take it places with him when he was on what he considered a clean streak. He had no intentions of hurting himself when he had gathered his things together before the trip but to have the option available just presented a weird sort of comfort he could never have another person understand.

He stood, blue eyes searching the room for his belongings. He needed to leave this room, stay away from the other man, and keep whatever positive feelings that he still had about himself distanced from Lotor. Haphazardly tossing items into his suitcase, his hand wrapped around an object that was not his. He uncurled his fingers, gaze landing on the foreign item.

Lotor’s car keys.

He was holding the keys to Lotor’s BMW i8. He could take the car and run off. Give Lotor a taste of the type of treatment he had been forced to deal with in the past. Besides, Lotor had money. He could easily call an Uber or Lyft to drive him back anyway.

Tossing the last of his items into his bag, his focus froze on the bathroom mirror. Lotor was right. His reflection was revolting. Every horrid scar and squishy part of his body was nothing but another reason Lotor was right about him, about how he really did deserve the treatment he received. He was not a catch. He was anything but. Lotor really was the best he could do. Keith might be back in his life, but it was not as if Keith wanted him back.

Not that Lance wanted to date Keith. That part of their relationship was over. People did not get back together and have the same relationship as before. Plaxum had put getting back together on the table for them when they had broken up, but it had never actually happened. Plaxum had moved on and so had Lance. Plaxum had a girlfriend now, and Lance had Lotor. Keith would probably find a new boyfriend soon. It was not as if he was not a good person or an attractive man. It would be easy for him.

He really should stay with Lotor. The one person who seemed to still want Lance around despite his many, many faults.

But not tonight.

He dressed himself fully and threw his duffle bag over his shoulder. With one last look towards the closed door separating him and Lotor, he exited the hotel. A short trip down the elevator, and he was sitting in Lotor’s one hundred forty-five thousand dollar car. He plugged Lotor’s address into the navigation system, hooked up his phone to the bluetooth, then let the waterworks fall as he guided the vehicle onto the road.

It was a silent ride, not even the soft hum of the car radio to drown out the turbulent thoughts swimming in his mind. The only time the sound of the car against the road had any company was when the occasional audible sob escaped Lance’s mouth. 

An artificial chime sound interrupted his lonely cries. A name popped up on the display.

**From Keith Gyeong:**

**I can’t sleep. It’s weird. I didn’t even sleep that much today.**

Keith. And he still had his actual name as his contact info. Him and Keith were friends now. He really needed to put a nickname in for him. But, he could worry about that later. He selected one of the premade responses supplied by the car and sent it to Keith.

**To Keith Gyeong:**

**Sorry. I can’t talk right now.**

**From Keith Gyeong:**

**Can I call you?**

He selected another premade response.

**To Keith Gyeong:**

**Yes.**

The display alerted him to the incoming call from his friend. He selected accept and let his brain be distracted by Keith’s voice.

“Where are you driving to right now?”

“Home…” He fought to keep his voice even. There was no reason to let Keith know he was crying as he spoke to him.

“I thought you were spending the weekend with Lotor.”

“I was.”

“Did something happen?”

“Fuck off with the questions, Keith!”

“You don’t need to give me attitude. We don’t have to talk about it if you don’t want to. All you have to do is say so.”

“Fine. I don’t want to talk about it. Sorry.”

“How much longer until you’re home? Want to grab McDonalds when you get back?”

“It’ll be a while.”

“I can wait. Remember? I can’t sleep.”

“Did you sleep all day?”

“No, actually. Matt and I went out together. He wanted help picking out a birthday present for Shiro. He really likes Shiro, but he’s a clueless gift giver. Katie is too. I think it runs in their family.”

Matt and Shiro. Why could he not find a relationship like that? Two people who cared about each other deeply and had a huge respect for any and all boundaries. That was all he wanted. Someone who cared enough to recruit another person to make sure that he received the perfect gift and wanted to make sure he was comfortable during everything at the same time. Maybe that really was rare. Or, he just was not worth the time of someone who was willing to do that for him.

More liquid fell down his cheeks. Fuck. This was not a good conversation to have right now. He needed a topic changer, and fast.

“You sound a lot less depressed.”

“What is it with everyone and assuming I’m depressed?”

“Keith, you sleep all day and night and barely get up to bathe.”

“I just felt like shit. It comes and goes.”

“That’s called depression being an asshole. It can be worse at some times than at others. I was really depressed in college, but now I’m functioning and keep a job and a relationship going.”

“No one gets it. No, I’m not depressed.”

“Why are you not depressed, Keith? Explain to me.”

“Because I only ever feel like shit for a few months, and then I feel fine for a while. I want to do things again, and life feels great. If I was depressed, I’d feel shitty all the time.”

“Okay, but you’re still experiencing severe depression when you  _ do _ feel down.”

“It’s whatever. I’m fine, okay? I’m coming out of the hole I’ve been in for the last three months, and I’m feeling good again. That’s all that matters.”

“Keith—”

“If you’re about to tell me I should see someone, don’t. I always make appointments then always have to cancel them, because I feel better by the time they roll around. There’s no point. I don’t need another person telling me how I’m fucking up in that department. I get it. I messed up a lot in my life. But, I know what I’m doing here, trust me. Besides, you’re starting to sound like Shiro, telling me everything I should be doing.” The last sentence was said with enough annoyance, he could feel the sense of rejection bubbling to the surface. Even Keith was annoyed with him. Lotor was probably right about Keith too. He only wanted in Lance’s pants, then he’d be gone again in a heartbeat.

“Did you just call to get angry at me?” There it was. His voice broke mid-sentence. 

“...Are you crying?”

“So what if I am.” Lance replied defensively.

“Shit, shit, shit. I didn’t mean to be an ass. I don’t want you to cry. How can I fix it?”

“Am I really that annoying?” And the waterworks fell. Audible sobs exited his mouth, paired only with tears rolling down his already damp skin.

“What are you talking about? Of course I don’t think you’re annoying. I’m sorry. I was an ass to say that. I know you care, I know Shiro cares. I got defensive.”

“Are you sure I’m not annoying?”

“Yes, Lance. I’m sure.”

He did not reply. To be honest, it was hard to believe Keith. 

“How can I make it up to you?”

“It’s fine. I felt like shit anyway.”

“No. It’s not fine. If we’re going to McDonalds still, I’m paying.”

“Look, it’s not you. I just really don’t feel like eating tonight…”

“Did you eat dinner?”

“Why does that matter?”

“Answer the question.”

“Yeah, I guess.”

“What’s ‘I guess’?”

“I mean, I didn’t finish my plate. Lotor and his dad started arguing, and he dragged me up from the table. We left early.”

“Wait, no. Did he hit you?!”

“Not really. Just shoved me around a bit.”

“Lance, that’s not okay!”

“He’s just mad and drunk. He won’t be like this in the morning.”

“Lance, he shouldn’t be hurting you  _ at all _ .”

“I’m fine, okay? I’ve dealt with worse from him. I’ll be okay.”

“When you get home, I’m icing your bruises. How much longer until you’re in town?”

“Four hours. But I have to go get my car from Lotor’s house so more like five or six.”

“Wait, you’re not in your car?”

“No.”

“Then how are you driving?”

“I stole Lotor’s.”

“And where are you?”

“Pennsylvania.”

“Why?”

“We were visiting Lotor’s parents.”

“So, you’re in Pennsylvania, in a stolen car, crying? Anything else I don’t know?”

“I’m not exactly one-hundred percent sober.”

“Lance,” Worry filled Keith’s voice, “Just how much have you drank?”

“Relax, it’s not enough to make me a bad driver. I’m just a bit buzzed. Besides, it’s not my car. Who cares if I end up crashing it?”

“I do!” Keith snapped, “You could get hurt!”

“So what?”

“What do you mean ‘so what’?” Keith’s voice changed. Was that hurt in his tone? “You could die! I just… Lance if you’re feeling like killing yourself, we can talk about it instead.”

“I… what? No. That’s not the case at all. I told you, I’m fine.”

“Are you sure, Lance? Because it doesn’t fucking sound like it. You’re talking about not caring if you die. That’s serious!”

“I’ve always felt like this. I’ve told you about it. I’m still here, right?”

“Yeah, and every time you said  _ anything _ about it, name one time I didn’t drop everything to talk it out with you. I care about you Lance, I care about you a lot. I’ve been giving you your space, because that’s what you asked. But, this is serious. Tell me what’s going on. Fucking talk to me.”

“I don’t have to to talk to you about anything.”

“Do you think attitude is going to solve this? I’m  _ scared _ , Lance. You’re at least having suicidal thoughts, and you’re in a car on your own, and you’ve been drinking. I can’t be there in person right now, so at least let me know you’re okay by telling me what’s going on.”

“I’m fine Keith, really. I’m not going to be dumb.”

“If you don’t want to do this for yourself, then can you do it for me?”

“What?”

“Look, it only takes a split second to decide to do something dumb. Trust me. I know. I just… I won’t get into it, but I got myself into a lot of shit out in Colorado. So I know, even if you don’t feel like it in this moment, you could just have the thought in your head, but you might just see an opportunity and just do it. So, can you please just stay on the phone with me until you’re home? We don’t have to talk about what’s upsetting you if you don’t want to. We can just have a normal conversation. But, just don’t hang up.”

“I… okay. If it helps you worry less, then I guess.”

“Can I have Lotor’s address?”

“Why?”

“I’m gonna get an Uber and meet you there so I can drive you.”

“Keith, you don’t have to.”

“Yeah, I know. I want to.”

“Keith…” His voice broke before he could get a real start on his sentence.

“How are you feeling?”

“Overwhelmed.”

“Why?”

“Because you’re being really nice…”

“Well, then the only problem is that you’re not used to it.”

“What is it? What’s the catch?”

“What do you mean? There’s no catch. I just want you to be okay.”

“No. There has to be something. Please, I need you to be honest with me. I can’t deal with another person lying to me about why they keep me around right now.”

“I am being honest!”

“Bull shit.”

“What can I say that will convince you?”

“Your actual reason for wanting a friendship with me after you dumped me and didn’t speak to me for five years.”

“Because what I did was wrong. I regret it. I was hurting, and I forgot my actions had consequences. I gave up the best thing in my life to go run away from my problems. And I hate myself for it.”

“What do you mean the best thing in your life?”

“What do you think I mean? You. When I was eighteen, you were the best thing in my life, and I gave you up because of my own anxieties, because apparently, according to Matt, it’s not normal to think everyone you care about is going to die.”

“Yeah, that’s mostly just a Shiro thing. Shit, Keith, don’t let Shiro know I’m buzzed driving right now, okay? He’ll have a panic attack, and I don’t want him to stress.”

“Pretty sure he’s preoccupied anyway.”

“You think him and Matt are already there?”

“I don’t know. I would be. I just like sex.”

“Damn it Keith, you tell me this after I get a boyfriend.” Lance replied jokingly, hoping to bring at least a dash of positivity to their conversation.

“I’ll make sure to think of you next time I have a dildo between my legs then.”

“You’d take a dildo over the real thing?”

“You know, it matters who’s attached to the dick too.”

“Ouch. You wound me, Keith”

“I’m kidding. You’re not bad.”

“Yeah, well,” Lance let out a sigh, as if the happiness from the previous moment was escaping through his breath, “Easy to think that when you’re not the one sleeping with me I guess.”

“Lance, stop it. You’re not bad in bed.”

“Yeah, you’re not the one I’m sleeping with though, so it doesn’t exactly hold weight.”

“Okay, but I was sleeping with you in high school. You only get better at stuff like that, and you weren’t bad then, so you aren’t bad now.”

“Okay, yeah, but you have no say in how I suck dick.”

“No. But you’re not bad at eating out. Who even said you’re bad at sex?”

“Lotor.”

“Lance, he’s just being a dick. Don’t listen to him.”

“Easier said than done.”

“I know, I know. But I’m telling you the truth, I promise. If you sucked at sex, I would’ve told you straight up.”

“I don’t think there’s much either of us can do straight.”

Keith’s laughter came through the phone.

A small smile found itself on Lance’s face, “Glad to know at least I can cheer you up.”

“Lance, you make a lot of people happy. Trust me. Hunk, Shiro, Katie, Matt, Allura, your family. List goes on. Tell me what else Lotor said, and I’ll tell you why it’s wrong.”

“That you left me, because all I do is whine.”

“Not true. I told you why I broke up with you. I was scared of bad things happening to people close to me. What better way to get rid of that fear than to have no one close to you. I’ve thought about that choice a lot. Wasn’t the best way to deal with how I was feeling. But I have to live with it, and I don’t blame you for being mad at me for it.”

“That you’re only my friend again, because you want to get in my pants.”

“Okay, he can literally fuck off. You’re worth more than sex, Lance. A lot more. I want you in my life, because I like your company and personality.”

“And you’re not going to turn around and ask for sex?”

“No. I mean, unless, unless you want to in the future. Because I’m not opposed to hooking up with friends.” An odd noise came from Keith, as if the realization of his words had just dawned on him, “Fuck. Look, you’re attractive, yes. But that has nothing to do with me wanting to be around you. I promise.”

“You don’t have to lie about my sex appeal. I know my looks are gone.”

“Lance, I swear to God. You’re twenty two. Your looks are not gone. You might not look as healthy as last time I saw you, but you’re not unattractive.”

“Yeah, sure, whatever.”

“Lance, I’m serious.”

“No. You’re being nice. No friend tells a friend they’re ugly.”

“Then why do you put up with a guy who says that to you?”

Lance froze for a moment before finally gathering himself enough to reply, “He’s just being honest. I need it.”

“No. It’s called being an ass.”

“How would you know the difference?”

“You’re not the only person who’s gotten involved with someone they really shouldn’t have.” Keith’s voice changed to a softer, more hesitant tone, “This… this stays between us, but… but my ex used to misgender me when he was mad at me. Yeah, I would yell and get pissed off at him. He told me no one else would deal with me, and I don’t know if I believed him or not. We got in fights, but he wasn’t being honest when he called me names. He was just being an ass. So yeah Lance, I really do know the difference…”

“I… Keith, I didn’t know. I’m sorry for assuming, I—”

“No. It’s fine. I didn’t say anything to anyone. Not even Shiro.”

“Why?”

“Why don’t you tell your family about how Lotor really treats you?”

“I don’t think they’d look at me the same way again… they already don’t after how much I’ve fucked up my life.”

“I guess… I guess I kinda feel the same. I only told Shiro the stuff he really, really needed to know. I don’t even know why I’m telling you this right now. Maybe it’s because of what you told me about Lotor. I don’t know. But, if I can tell you that none of Lotor’s bullshit is your fault, then I should probably tell myself that my ex was just an asshole too.”

“I don’t really think you fucked up your life. You basically did what rich kids do. Take a year break between high school and college, except you took five years.”

“Yeah, and I broke up with you and dropped out of high school in the process. I don’t even have a GED. I’ve done  _ nothing _ with my life.”

“Did you get it all out of your system?”

“I guess?”

“Then that’s something, right?”

“Barely.”

“Keith, you’re smart. Really smart. You could get your GED in no time. I’ll even help you study if you need. You’re basically the reason I passed half my classes in high school anyway. I’d just be returning the favor.”

“And  _ how _ are you not already taken again?”

“I, uh, actually I am now.”

“Wait, what?”

“Yeah, Lotor and I made things official.”

“Lance, why?”

“I’ll never know if he’s changed if I don’t give him a chance now.”

“He’s still saying horrible things to you!”

“You don’t get it. He’s not an ass just because he wants to be.”

“Then tell me why he’s an ass.”

“He just, he just has a lot of issues, okay?”

“I have a ton of issues too, and I’m not hitting people and calling them names.”

“He’s trying to get better. I want to give him that chance.”

“What if he hurts you?”

“I told him that, if he lays a hand on me, I’m breaking up with him.”

“Lance I—No… Look, I don’t agree with you getting back with Lotor. But I still want to be your friend either way. And no matter how your relationship with him goes, I’m here for you.”

“I… thank you Keith. To be honest, I don’t know how it’s going to go. But I really want to try and make it work with him. I just want to give him some time where he’s not drunk to make his good impression.”

“Do you really think I have it together enough to get my GED and a job?”

“Yeah, of course I do buddy. And who knows, if things don’t work out with Lotor and I, then maybe you and I could get a place together and be roommates for a while.”

“That doesn’t sound bad at all.”

The conversation carried on, only halting when Lance pulled over onto the shoulder of the highway to send Keith Lotor’s address. It was soothing, having Keith to talk to. Maybe the other man was right. He very well could have made a bad decision driving in a car on his own in that type of emotional state, but Keith had sufficiently calmed Lance down enough for him to be in a rational mindset once more. It was moments such as these where he was never more glad to have Keith back in his life.

When he pulled the white car into Lotor’s driveway, there Keith was, sitting cross-legged outside of Lotor’s garage. He was dressed in a pair of black yoga pants, a winter coat, and a red beanie only a few shades darker than the streak in his bangs.

Lance shut off the car and grabbed his bag. Stepping out of the vehicle, he made his way over to the other man. Purple eyes met his own before they had gone on a mission to inspect all visible skin for damages. Once Keith had narrowed in on the skin around Lance’s wrist, he slipped an instant activate ice pack out of his hoodie pocket and immediately set it up to be applied to his friend’s skin.

“Keith, I’m okay, really.”

“No. You’re not. He hurt you. I swear to God Lance don’t ever let me meet this man if you want him to stay alive.”

“You’re overreacting. I’m standing here in front of you, right? So, I’m okay.”

“Fine. But if I find one more bruise, I’m murdering him.”

“Alright, alright. You can have that one.”

“Good. Can I have your keys?”

“Yeah.” Lance dug into his coat pocket. Once he fished out a key ring with a set of house keys, a car key, and a keychain of the Cuban flag attached to it, he handed over his possession to Keith. The two entered the ice box otherwise known as Lance’s car and waited for the immediate proximity to warm up. He turned to face his friend in the driver’s seat. 

Keith adjusted the seat and turned on the defogger. “How are you holding up, princess?”

“You jerk,” Lance gave him a playful shove, “You know what that nickname is.”

“Oh, I’m sorry,” Keith leaned closer, whispering the last word into Lance’s ear, “ _ Princess _ .”

“How dare you!” Lance pushed Keith’s face away, “Using kinks against me!”

Keith let out a laugh, submitting to Lance’s friendly shoves.

“You’re an ass.” Lance said, giving in to the infectious laughter. 

“Yeah. I am. But you’re smiling. So, it’s worth it.” Keith said through a shit eating grin.

He relaxed into the passenger seat, still facing Keith. His left hand reached out, gently touching the other man’s right hand. The pads of his fingers played with Keith’s own, and his eyes rested on Keith’s face. Specifically, his smile. It had been so long since he had seen Keith so happy. In the three months he had been reunited with Keith, he had never seen his friend’s cheeks raise and eyes slightly squint in the same way. He missed the way his lips parted to show his teeth while laughter left his mouth and how his purple eyes lit up. Seeing it again, it was like the parting of a thunderstorm. A bright light making its way through the clouds.

“Lance, are you okay?”

His heart stopped. Had he been staring? How long had he been staring? Shit. Keith probably thought he was weird now! What if he did not want to be friends anymore? He probably just weirded Keith out for good. He could say goodbye to all the bonding they had had over the last few months. Keith would never want to be around him now.

“Lance, look at me.” Two hands gently held his face, bringing both men back to the eye contact they had held moments before. “Deep breaths, alright?”

“I, I’m okay.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yeah.”

“Alright.” Keith’s hands left Lance’s face and moved to grab the steering wheel.

“I…” 

“Hm?”

“I’m just, I just want, sorry I’m still anxious.”

Keith set the car into reverse, then drive once the tires had hit the road. He held out his right hand, “You can hold it.”

A small smile crept up on Lance’s face. Accepting the offer, his long fingers slid in the spaces between Keith’s own. With a reassuring squeeze from the other man, the drive had begun.

It was silent most of the way. Nothing but the sounds of the radio and rubber hitting the road. Although it was quiet, Lance found no reason to complain. The hour together was nothing to complain about. Actually, it was nice, relaxing. The small contact between him and Keith left him feeling closer to the other person than any of his time with Lotor had in the last several months. 

It was only once Keith had pulled into a McDonald's parking lot that the conversation between the two had really started up again.

“Do you want to go in, or eat in the car?”

“Whatever you want. I’m not really hungry.”

“You’ve been up all night. You have to eat something.”

“I just, I don’t want to.”

“Lance…”

“I’m fine, Keith. Really. Besides, you gain weight from eating too close to the time you sleep.”

“You’re eating something. I don’t care if it’s a small order of fries and nothing else. You have to eat.”

“I’m really just not hungry.”

“Yeah, no. I’m getting you fries.”

“I said no!”

“Too late.” Keith exited the car before Lance could answer him.

No. Keith was not just about to force him to eat fast food out of everything. Out of every food option out there, there was no way on Earth he was going to eat  _ McDonald’s _ . He rushed out of the car to catch up with his friend, only stopping when he had his hands on one of Keith’s arms, grabbing his attention.

“Look, let’s eat somewhere else, okay?”

“What’s wrong with here? Food is food.”

“I just, I really don’t want to.”

“Lance, what’s going on?”

“Nothing.”

Keith stayed silent for a moment before replying, “Well, everywhere is closed. If we go back to Shiro and Matt’s, will you eat there?”

“I… I don’t know…”

“Please? Even just an energy bar?”

“...I’ll try.”

“I’ll take us back. Just don’t tell Shiro we’ve been driving. I only told him that I was going for a walk. I’m just going to order myself food first.”

Lance gave him a quick nod before taking a seat at a booth for two. A few minutes later, Keith joined him with a medium soda in hand. Silence lingered between the two, almost as if it was a battle to see who could last longer without bringing up Lance’s actions. Fortunately for Lance, he was a pro at that game.

Keith gazed at Lance, then at the table before settling his focus on the almost clear plastic lid of the paper cup between his hands, “Lance, can I ask you a personal question? You can say no if it’s uncomfortable.”

This was it. The moment Keith would look differently at him. The moment where Keith would call him pathetic for even falling into the trap he had gotten himself into since college. When Keith and him had dated, they had spent countless hours in the kitchen while Keith did art and Lance made different foods. What if that was the kind of friendship Keith was searching for from him? Keith would probably get up from the table and leave him to find his own way home from the fast food joint.

No. He had to stop assuming what Keith was going to say. If Keith really did ask the dreaded question, then he could always lie. It was not as if he had not done so before, especially when his parents had asked what meals he had already eaten in the day.

“Yeah. I don’t see why not.” He forced a smile to his face.

“I don’t really know how to phrase this… I guess I need to be blunt? I don’t know. But, do you have an… an eating disorder?”

His brain and body came to a halt together. He knew it. He knew that would be the question Keith asked, and there was  _ no way _ he would be giving Keith the real answer.

But, apparently, his body did not want to cooperate with its boss, and he gave Keith a pitiful nod.

“I… Can I ask which one?” Keith broke the eye contact he had managed to hold for the moment between his questions. “You can tell me if I’m digging too deep.”

“I…” Great. He could feel the tears threatening to break through his eyes already. This was  _ not _ a topic he enjoyed. “I wasn’t exactly formally diagnosed with one. The doctors were more concerned with everything else… It started as another way to self-harm… but I don’t know what it is at this point. Am I really that obvious about it?”

“No. I just put the pieces together. You always eat small portions, and you lost all your muscle mass. I overheard Shiro and Matt talking about you purging your food too.”

“Look, I haven’t done that in a while. The thought of food just makes me feel gross these days, so I just avoid it if I can.” Then it hit him, “Wait! Why were they even talking about that?!”

“Shiro was anxious that you had started again, because you drank at the New Years party and had a breakdown in the bathroom the next morning.”

“Is  _ that _ why he’s been on my case so much lately?!”

“Maybe?” Keith shrugged his shoulders, “I just want to help if I can. I get if it’s a touchy place though.”

“I… yeah. It’s a difficult thing for me.”

“Can you still eat the energy bar when we get back?”

He answered Keith with a nod. 

“My order’s ready.” The other man hopped out of his seat and grabbed the paper bag. He waved Lance over to come join him before exiting the establishment. The two were back on the road moments later.

“Hey, Keith?”

“Hm?”

“Do you think I could sleep over at Shiro and Matt’s place tonight? I don’t care if I just have the floor. I just can’t face my family and tell them how horribly things went. I’ll just chill out somewhere for the rest of the day. I just need a place to sleep.”

“Don’t worry about it. I sleep in Matt’s old room now. You can have the bed. I’ll sleep on the couch.”

“No, no, no. I’m not taking your bed from you.”

“Lance, it’s fine. I’ve slept in a lot of weird places.”

“No. It’s  _ your _ bed.”

“Fine. Suit yourself.” Keith pulled the car into the parking lot of the apartment building. A short trip up the elevator and an adventure of tip toeing into the apartment, and their goal of sneaking back in had been completed.

Lance laid on the L-shaped couch, eyes glued to the ceiling, tracing any irregularities with his eyes. All the lights were shut off, save for the one to Matt’s, or now Keith’s room. His door stood slightly open, the crack of light dimly illuminating the room. He took his last bites of the energy bar Keith had given him, letting the self hatred sink into his mind. 

He was disgusted with himself. Logically, an energy bar was not even a full meal and he was fine for eating one, but that was just not how his mind wanted to work today. No. Today was a low day. A day where every single action could do nothing but lead him closer and closer to hitting rock bottom the same way he had when he was twenty. 

And it made him feel sick. Not just an emotional sickness with himself and his actions. No. It was a physical sickness too. One that left him with the need to vomit creeping up on him.

Eating was not the only reason he needed to loathe his very being. Lotor had just given him an entire lecture on how he did nothing but run to people who showed him any amount of attention, no matter how small, and here he was, proving Lotor right. He ran right to Keith without a second thought, all because Keith was not being a jerk to him. He would probably end up in bed with him sooner rather than later, making himself a perfect example of what Lotor had pointed out.

Maybe he really was as much of a slut as Lotor said he was.

He was not even a good boyfriend to start. He had just spent his night leaving his boyfriend to find a way home after stealing his car and driving it back to New York. He should of just let Lotor have his fun with him, and none of the fight would have even happened. He could of prevented it with ease, but no. He just had to be selfish.

That was all he was, was he not?

Selfish.

Lotor had started therapy to fix his issues in the relationship. Yet, Lance had never even offered to try and fix his own faults.

Selfish.

He had set down rule after rule for the two of them, but never bothered to ask if Lotor had wanted any input on the matter. For all he knew, Lotor had wanted to discuss something important with him. Something that could quell the duo’s constant fighting. But no, Lance only thought of himself.

Selfish.

Selfish, selfish, selfish.

That was all he was. A disgrace of a human being who only cared for himself.

A familiar wetness pricked at his eyes, and an occasional audible sob escaped his mouth as he mentally ran down the list of people he had wronged in this way, those he had hurt.

No one but Lotor really would put up with him. No one but the other man would ever be able to look at him without being thoroughly disgusted.

“Lance?” The voice came from the doorway to Keith’s room.

He had to hush himself, feign sleep. Keith had dealt with enough of his whining today. Anymore, and he would probably jump ship from Lance’s life before the night was over.

The sound of footsteps came closer until they stopped, and the figure of one of his friends could be made out in the semi-darkness. He knelt, face getting closer to Lance’s own, “Are you crying?”

Lance quickly shook his head in defense.

“Come here.” Keith guided Lance onto his feet by his arms. He led him towards the only light source. “We can talk in my room.”

“I don’t want to talk.”

“Alright, then what do you want to do?” Keith closed the door behind them and took a seat on the ruffled comforter atop his bed. With the light of the room he could see clearly what Keith was wearing. Nothing but a black tank top and a pair of plaid boxers. To be fair, it was not as if Lance was much more clothed himself in his own superhero themed boxers.

Lance took his seat on the bed next to Keith. “Nothing.”

“Well, I’m not leaving you to cry.”

“I wasn’t crying.”

“You’re crying right now.” A small pause broke Keith’s sentences apart, “Would a hug help?”

“I don’t know, maybe… Can I have a blanket though? You guys all live like it's the arctic in here.”

“Yeah. Just get in the bed.” The other man lifted the comforter and sheets long enough for both of them to make it under.

He could not see it, but he felt a hand reach his. Skin brushed against skin as the two laced themselves together.

Lance sniffed, “Can I still have that hug?”

Keith’s arms opened, and Lance spent no time waiting before he curled up with his friend. The sound of the other man’s heartbeat lulled him into a sense of calm. Keith had said something, but he was not sure what exactly before sleep took him for what was left of the night.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh boy, I really did not expect this to end up being 8k. I think my chapters just get longer and longer lol


	18. Chapter 18

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's strange how one person can make you so happy, and that another can ruin it so fast.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I didn't expect it to take this long to write this chapter, I apologize. I got a bit too sucked into other things (including the voltron VR game). Unfortunately, writer's block is also a thing, but here's the next chapter.
> 
> Trigger warnings for descriptions of self-injury and mentions of eating disorders.

He had expected to stir from his slumber by his own mind, or maybe even Keith kicking him out of the bed, a result of the regrets of letting Lance so close last night. Yet, he had not anticipated to be jolted awake by the irritatingly insistent ringing of his phone and the fact that no one in the world wanted to let him have a moment to himself. Blue eyes forced themselves open, and his hand instinctively reached to the side only to slap the empty section of the mattress. A wave of confusion came over him before it clicked, and he could feel his heart jump like an olympic gymnast.

This was not his room.

The panic only lasted a second upon the other realization that he was in Matt’s, now Keith’s, room. He lifted his head slightly from the section of Keith’s chest and shoulder that he had claimed as his pillow for the night, attempting to hone his still sleep-influenced senses to track down the source of the noise.

The door to the room swung open, letting light and the sound of his phone gush into the area.

“Hey Keith, do you know where Lance—oh.” Matt stood in the doorway, dressed in baggy gray sweatpants and a white t-shirt that was very obviously Shiro’s. “Well, good morning.”

“Is that my phone?” Lance asked groggily.

“Yep.”

“Let me rephrase. Can I have my phone?”

“Go nuts. You have a lot of notifications though.” Matt lightly tossed the object onto the bed.

“Matt, can you prepare Batman’s food?” Shiro called from what was probably the kitchen. Knowing how insistent the couple’s cat could be, it was no wonder Shiro was asking for help at the moment.

“Can’t I have a little help raising our child, Shiro? Do your part. I carried him for nine months.” Matt called back.

“You did _not_ carry him for nine months.”

“Yes I did. In my arms. All the different times added up over the years has to equal nine months at least.”

“Just come feed your son.” Shiro said with a hint of laughter to his voice.

“ _Your_ son? He’s _our_ son Shiro. We’re in this together, remember?” Matt joked before giving Lance and Keith a small wave goodbye and joining Shiro in the kitchen.

Lance thumbed through the notifications taking up space on his lockscreen. Over half seemed to be from Lotor, mostly texts but also a few missed calls. A sigh escaped his lips, he really was _not_ looking forward to dealing with Lotor today. Especially not after he had stolen his car last night. He turned over halfway and buried his face in Keith’s shoulder with an exasperated groan.

“What’s wrong?” Keith asked, carding his fingers through Lance’s brown locks in a comforting motion.

He refused to move his face from its home in Keith’s shoulder. “I’m about to get chewed out by Lotor, and I don’t want to. He’s just going to call me names instead of actually telling me that he’s upset.”

“Why do you put up with that? There’s plenty of other people in the world that would be willing to date you.”

“He’s not a bad guy…”

“Lance, he bruised your wrist again last night. _Everytime_ you come back from seeing him, your wrists are bruised. Even if he’s not hitting you, he shouldn’t be grabbing you like that.”

“I’m okay. I promise.” He said, body still flopped partially on top of Keith’s.

“Lance, look at me.” When Lance ignored Keith’s request, a set of fingers tilted his head up to meet purple eyes, a thumb planted underneath his chin. “You don’t deserve to settle.”

Blue eyes refused to make contact, keeping his glances to his right. “Sometimes you just have to be realistic and play in your league.”

“But you’re not happy. You’re never happy when you come back from seeing him.”

“Yeah, well, what we get isn’t always what we want.” Lance shifted his gaze downwards.

“But this isn’t a new car. This is your own happiness and sanity.”

“He’s not the worst thing to happen to me. And my family loves him, so at least I picked someone they like. Lotor has money, so at least I know I’ll be financially stable for my life. I won’t go hungry or be late on bills.”

“You’ll be miserable.”

“A lot of people are miserable in their marriages, and they’re fine. Shiro’s parents were unhappy together, but that was just life. If it’s just life for me, then I can deal with it.”

“Lance, I lived in that house too. If they hadn’t died, they would be divorced right now. They were only together to get Shiro through college. I wasn’t planning on going, so as soon as Shiro finished his last semester, they were going to get divorced. I know you. You don’t want a marriage that ends in divorce.”

“I have a high bullshit tolerance.”

“You always talked about having kids. Do you really want to raise them like that?”

“No…”

“I’ve known you a long time Lance. Even if I wasn’t in your life for five years, I still know you. And you’re not happy with him. Your eyes never light up when you talk about him, you don’t get smiley and excited when you’re planning on seeing him, and you don’t even want to tell half your friends about him. I miss seeing you so happy. Do you even love him?”

“No.”

“Then why do you want to be with him? You always told me how much you wanted to find the love of your life and still be madly in love when you’re old. What happened to you?”

“Life kicked my ass. I fell head over heels three times. You left me out of the blue, Lotor is an ass and the feelings fizzled out, and I messed things up really bad with Plaxum.”

“I’m sorry for hurting you so badly like that. I didn’t do it to hurt you.”

Lance’s hand absentmindedly threaded itself together with Keith’s empty one. “I know. I’ve gotten past it.”

“I still miss seeing you smile.” Keith’s thumb brushed across Lance’s bottom lip gently.

Heat rushed to Lance’s cheeks and suddenly blue eyes connected with purple ones. Maybe he was frozen in place, forcing him to stare at Keith and the fond smile and loving purple eyes that decorated his handsome face. Or maybe he just did not have any will to pull himself or his gaze away from the man in front of him.

Had he been this close to Keith all morning? Faces only inches apart. His vision locked onto Keith’s lips, chapped and broken from the cold like they had been every winter they had known each other, but it did not deter the impulsive thoughts of leaning forwards to seal the gap between them. It would be more than easy to press his lips against Keith’s own, even moving to put the same contact to the rest of Keith’s skin later on, possibly moving his own body against Keith’s eventually.

Keith’s hand jerked back and away from Lance’s face. “Fuck. Sorry. I didn’t mean to. That wasn’t okay.”

“No. No. It’s okay. It didn’t bother me.” Lance rushed the words out of his mouth, acutely aware of how he had most likely just spent several minutes with his mouth parted, doing nothing but silently staring at Keith’s face.

Well, that would be mortifying, if it had been anyone other than Keith.

Within seconds, both of them had fallen right back into the silence from before, gazes content on the view in front of them.

A loud ringing zapped Lance back to reality. He leaned over and brought the device to his face.

**FaceTime Video From Dinezor**

He slid his thumb across the screen. Pulling the covers up to Keith’s shoulders, he laid his head back down and attempted to find the most flattering angle for his camera to capture his bedhead.

“Hey Lance.”

“Hey Ezor.”

“Who’s the lucky guy?” She teased.

“What? Oh! That’s Keith. Say hi Keith.”

Keith gave the camera a small wave before resting his head on top of Lance’s.

“Did you two have fun last night?”

“Nothing happened.” Lance replied.

“Sure.” Ezor continued to tease, “How does Lotor feel about you fooling around with other people?”

“Okay. One, you know the answer to that question. Two, we didn’t do anything. I’m just staying at his place right now.”

“I’m kidding. I believe you. Honestly, really don’t care what you’re doing relationship-wise. Lotor’s kinda an ass to you. If you _did_ cheat on him, I wouldn’t blame you.”

“You know how Lotor is. I don’t even need to jokingly talk about spending time with other people to bother him.”

“Yeah, yeah, I know. Anyways, Lotor told us what happened last night. I just wanted to check on you and make sure you’re doing okay.”

“Yeah, I’m alright. Thanks for asking.”

Ezor turned her head to face someone off camera, “Hey, Acxa, I’m talking to Lance! Come say hi!”

Keith stirred slightly, his head shifting slightly before relaxing once more.

The camera shifted and Acxa’s face came into view. “How are you?”

“Managing. He didn’t hit me or anything last night. He was drunk though. Really drunk.”

“I’m going to call him in a few minutes. He’s absolutely livid about you taking his car, by the way.”

Fuck. That was the exact opposite of what he needed right now. Though, actions had consequences, he supposed.

“Like, hit me livid or yell at me livid? They’re very different things…” His voice trailed off, giving way to the anxieties of his upcoming interaction with Lotor.

“I’m going to talk to him on the phone to calm him down for you. I’m not letting him get near you while he’s that angry.” She assured.

“I’m going to go out for a cigarette. I’ll be back in a bit, alright?” Keith informed, beginning to shift out from underneath Lance.

“Don’t go. You make a nice pillow.” Lance pouted.

“Am I just a pillow to you?”

“Yes.”

“Who’s that?” Acxa asked.

“Oh, this is Keith. Friend of mine from high school. Keith, say hi.” Lance shoved the phone playfully at Keith.

He rolled his eyes before taking it and answering, “Hi.”

“Keith, is that you?” Acxa’s tone turned into something almost akin to bewilderment.

“Acxa?” Keith’s voice seemed as if he had just made the biggest revelation of his life.

“Do you guys know each other?” Lance inquired.

“Yeah. We met in Texas.” Keith answered.

“We’re half-siblings. We have the same mother.” Acxa added.

“I didn’t know when you said that you had an estranged brother named Keith, that it was _this_ Keith! Hold up!” Lance took the phone from Keith’s hand and moved so he could compare the two side-by-side. Both of the two shared a similar facial structure and the same purple eyes. They were no Matt and Pidge, but the resemblance was definitely there. “Okay, I can see it.” He handed the phone back to Keith and sat up to allow them to both be in the shot of the front-facing camera on his phone. “Keith! How could you not tell me you had a sister?!”

“I didn’t think it was important information? She lives in Texas. Or did.”

“I moved in with my girlfriend last year. Where are you guys?” Acxa asked.

“Shiro’s apartment.” Lance answered.

“How long are you in New York for? Can I come visit?”

“I don’t have any plans to leave right now. Let me know when you’re free.”

“Did you finally dump that guy in Colorado?”

“Mhm, never going back to that state ever again.”

“Good. That guy was terrible for you.”

“You don’t know the half of it.”

“I’m going to go call Lotor now. Lance can give you my new number. I’m glad you’re both doing well.” With those parting words, the call ended, leaving the duo to stare at Lance’s lock screen for a few moments.

“So, anything else you’re hiding from me, Mr. Mullet?” Lance said in mock anger, crossing his arms over his chest.

“Yeah, there’s something I really should have told you sooner.” Keith’s gaze lowered to stare at the bed sheets.

“And, that is?”

Keith’s eyes snapped back up to Lance’s. “I’m gay.”

“Keith! I swear to God!” Lance laughed, bringing a hand to partially cover his own mouth.

“I know, I know. It’s a shock.”

Lance gave Keith a friendly shove. “Go have your cigarette.”

“I’m going, I’m going.” Keith left the bed. Ambling over to the dresser, he pulled out a pair of closed gray sweatpants. He slipped them over his shorts and exited the room, leaving Lance to lie on the messed comforter and bed sheets.

He thumbed through his notifications, answering a few SnapChats and disregarding anything from Twitter before jolting slightly at the obnoxious ringing his phone had once again decided to release this morning. Could no one let him have five minutes to himself?

**Call From Prince Charming**

Of course.

He swiped across the screen and placed the object to his ear. “Hello?”

The first words to come through the receiver were nothing but a string of curses mixed with several colorful insults.

“Lotor.”

The yelling continued.

“Lotor, stop.”

No reaction to his words, just the continuation of the same tone.

“I’m not going to stay on the phone with you if you’re just going yell. You’re twenty-four. You’re an adult. If you’re not going to talk like one, I’m going to hang up until you decide that you can.”

“Excuse me?!”

“You heard me. Talk civilly, or we’ll do this later.” Lance repeated, “I’m not going to sit here and be yelled at like a teenager. If you want to talk this out, I’ll listen. Otherwise, call me back later.”

“Fine!” Lotor snapped. He took several moments to calm his voice and breathing before returning to speaking. His voice came out with a flare of anger but did not carry the same loudness as yelling. To Lance, it was a victory. “You stole my car.”

“Your car is at your house. It’s parked in the driveway, and your keys are inside of your garage. If anything, I drove it for a bit.”

“Without my permission.” Lotor reminded.

“Oh, you can go through my phone and read all my messages, but I can’t drive your stupid car?! How is that fair?!”

“It’s fair, because you lied to me!”

“About being on the phone or not! You broke my finger! Do you really want to compare our actions?”

“Because—”

“No! I shouldn’t be scared to visit my fucking _boyfriend_! I shouldn’t be wondering what it is this time that is going to set you off! I want this to work. I do. But, I can’t just pretend everything is fine when it isn’t. Lotor…” He paused for a moment, his volume of his voice lowering slightly, “I can’t do this alone. I need you to work with me.”

“I am. I’m doing everything you asked, aren’t I?”

“I don’t mean that. A relationship is a partnership, an equal one. I can’t be the only one pulling my weight in trying to make this work. And this isn’t college anymore. We don’t live close. If you really want this to work, you have to be willing to take that into account.”

“As if I haven’t made time to see you.”

“Lotor, I want a future. I want to buy a house together. I want to get married. I want to raise kids. I’m not looking for something short-term. If that’s what this is to you, then we should break up. Do you see a future with me?”

“I wouldn’t be on the phone with you right now if I didn’t.”

“Then we need a different way of dealing with our issues. All we do is yell for a while, and then nothing gets solved. We did the same thing in college. I want a functioning relationship.”

“Then what do you propose?”

“I don’t know. We’re too far away to be doing couples therapy, but if we last long enough that we move in together, then I want to do that.”

“That doesn’t solve the issue _now_.”

“I know,” Lance sighed defeatedly, “I know.”

“Well?”

“I don’t know.”

“You say all of this without a plan?”

“I’m throwing out suggestions.”

“Well, it’s your idea. How am I supposed to plan it out?”

“I don’t know? Suggest something?! See, this is exactly what I’m talking about Lotor! I can’t do this all by myself! Pull your weight!”

“Pull my weight?! You throw that around a lot without doing it yourself.”

“Excuse me?!” Lance shouted, “I’m the only one trying to come up with solutions right now!”

“And you spent half of our last relationship doing absolutely nothing! I would have to drag you out of the bed to just shower! You didn’t make a single meal the whole time we lived together!”

“Oh, maybe because I have an _eating disorder_! Which you keep encouraging, by the way. I wonder why Lance doesn’t cook any meals for himself. Wait! It’s because all he does is throw them up afterwards, so it’s stupid to even try! You were an adult. You could cook for yourself, and if you didn’t want to, you could’ve ordered take out!”

“You’re telling me _I’m_ the reason this relationship isn’t working? _You’re_ the one flying off the handle about nothing!”

“You just told me I never cooked for you when I was struggling with an eating disorder! How else I’m I supposed to take that?”

“You’re the one saying that we need an equal partnership and blaming it all on me! I was working so I could pay rent for us, and I don’t think it was too much to expect that you would pull your weight around the apartment!

“I just got out of the fucking mental hospital when I moved in with you! For a breakdown that _you_ caused, may I add!”

“I’m the reason you tried to kill yourself?” Lotor asked unamused.

“Yeah! You and your shit fucking attitude! You spent almost the entire time calling me names and making fun of me for liking cooking and then making fun of me for not wanting to eat! I couldn’t fucking win! You still do it now!” Hot liquid began to break through blue eyes.

“At least I stayed with you! Let’s talk about your last girlfriend, huh? Dumping you, because you had a depressive episode. You sing all her goddamn fucking praises, but all I get is you telling everyone I’m a horrible person!”

“You _e_ _ncouraged_ me to start throwing up my food again last night!”

“And _you_ stole my car!”

“Because you were being an ass! You told me to leave! Where else was I supposed to go?!”

“If you weren’t so annoying, I wouldn’t have had to tell you to leave! So, it’s your own fault!”

“My fault?! Fine! I get it! I’m the worst boyfriend ever! Fine! I don’t care!” He let his nails dig into the skin of his arm as he let the words fly from his mouth.

“I swear to God Lance, you always fucking do this! This is why no one likes you!”

“Fuck you! I’m not listening anymore!”

“Do you think that makes it any better?! Now you’re just being obnoxious too!”

“Why do you care?! All you’re going to do is make fun of me anyway! Or tell me about how much everyone used to like me better…”

An exasperated sigh came through the receiver.

He stayed on the line for a few moments, anticipating something, _anything_. His nails began to scratch the skin of his arm as he trudged through more silence.

A few deep breaths made their way through the phone. “Look, I’m sorry La—”

Trembling fingers hit the end call button, his chest overcome with a sudden sense of heaviness, anguish that seeped into his mind and bones and poured out his eyes. A sadness that seized all oxygen and engulfed him whole, not even giving him a chance to notice the ambush before whispering little words of hopelessness upon infiltration.

Annoying, obnoxious, worthless.

Whore, slut, easy.

Ugly, useless, Fuck up.

 _Pathetic_.

That was a nice word to sum it up. He did not even need to come up with it himself. It was just another word that left his own boyfriend’s mouth so easily, like all the others that described him so well.

Because it was true.

It was all true.

He was nothing more than a poor excuse of a life. Twenty-two years alive and nothing to show for it but a dead-end job, scarred arms, and a forever fucked up esophagus.

Truly pathetic.

The fingernails scraping against the skin of his arm had gone from a light repetitive scratching to angry claws that tried to rip apart his flesh. Desperately attempting to break the protective surface of his body leaving long red marks as evidence, because he deserved to hurt.

He did not deserve the friends in this apartment with him. He did not deserve the loving family that he had. He did not deserve the boyfriend who had been sticking by him the whole time. None of them should have been faced with the obligation to accept Lance into their life. Yet, they had all done it, because each and every one of them was a better person than Lance could ever be.

He was a horrible friend, horrible boyfriend, horrible person.

And there is was. That horrible, disgusting urge. The one that loved to claw at him from under his skin and steal his attention away. It could be better. He could _feel_ better. Feel free and as if everything was okay once more, avoiding the whole trip to depressionville in one small action. One small mark was nothing to ask in comparison for the release the devil offered.

It was tunnel vision. His feet carrying him with purpose to his bag and hands grabbing desperately to find the object of his desires. He took the knob into his fingers, only for the bathroom door to slam loudly behind him only seconds before he sank to the floor and pushed up the right leg of his boxer-shorts.

It was over in a few minutes. The tears continued but the heaviness ceased. Blue eyes glued to the marks he had just made, circles of blood that played connect the dots into thin red lines decorated his thigh. They would make home among the other faded welts that resided there.

He stared at them, unfeeling. As if his brain had not yet caught up enough to register his actions. A part of him wanted to do it again, just to watch the way his skin split open with the blade and the way crimson pooled to the surface. He deserved to look this way, with his skin cut up and his blood leaking out.

A knock sounded at the door accompanied by Matt’s voice, “Hey, Lance, is everything alright?”

His fingers quickly curled around the leg of his boxer-shorts, yanking it down to cover the evidence of his actions. Blue eyes darted around the room with urgency, searching for any shelter he could possible find for the boxcutter laying in his hand. His gaze fixated on the cabinet under the sink. He tugged it open as the barricade between himself and the rest of the world was pushed open.

“Woah, woah, woah, what are you doing?” Matt stood above him in the doorway. He moved to his knees, gently pulling Lance away from the area of his desires. He sat down cross-legged in front of Lance, back to the cabinet and brown eyes on Lance. “You okay?”

Lance found it almost impossible to give his friend a response. Nothing but the shake of his head managed to escape his body.

“Alright, there’s a start. Thanks for being honest with me. Can I help?”

He gave his friend a nod.

“Do you want the door closed?” When Lance nodded in response Matt leaned over and pushed the door closed. “What were you doing in the cabinet?”

Not a word, just the shake of his head.

Brown eyes peered closer at Lance’s hands and the object in them, “Is that…?”

He failed to give his friend a reply.

Matt slowly opened Lance’s fingers, careful to not apply force. Taking the boxcutter, he set it to the side on the counter above his head. “Did you use it?” When there was no reply Matt continued, “I’m not mad or disappointed, alright? I just want to help. I can get you some rubbing alcohol and bandaids. Sound good?”

“Yeah…” He forced out.

Matt opened the cabinet next to him, retrieving a half-empty plastic bottle containing a clear liquid. He placed it on the tile floor in front of his friend before going back into the same cabinet for a pack of circular cotton pads and large bandaids. Dropping both packages into his lap, he turned his attention back to Lance, “Do you want to do it yourself? Or do you want me to do it?”

“I can do it.” Lance insisted, sniffing and wiping his eyes after he spoke. He took the cotton pads from Matt, pouring a small amount of the antiseptic onto it before rolling up the fabric covering his wounds. The contact stung, but somehow, it was nice. It always was. The pain of the disinfectant doing its job had always been like a second round of harming himself, but at the same time, it carried a different connotation. Instead of the harsh feelings of needing to punish himself for his failures, it made him feel cared for. Fixing and bandaging his own wounds was as if someone wanted to make sure that he was okay in the end, even if it was only himself. A little optional action that perfectly wrapped up the moment.

If he was to admit anything about his horrible coping mechanisms, it would be that it felt good to practice first aid on himself. It always gave him a signal that his emotional moment was over, that he was falling back into rationality, and that things would soon be okay once more.

“Do you want to talk about it at all?” Matt asked.

“What’s there to talk about?” The words came out disheartened.

“Anything you want. But, it might help to talk about what’s bothering you.”

“...I got back together with Lotor, officially.”

“Did you want to?”

“I don’t know… He’s not exactly an ideal boyfriend. But, he wants to be with me, and I think I should really give him a second chance.”

“Why do you want to give him that chance? He doesn’t really deserve it.”

Lance breathed a sigh, placing a large bandaid on the affected area. “I know you’re not going to believe me, but he’s not a bad guy. He just has a lot of problems. I want to give him a chance to get better. I don’t love him, but…” Blue eyes met the tile floor, “He wants a future with me.”

“He’s not the only person out there, Lance.” Matt replied, “You don’t have to be with him if you don’t want to.”

“I want to try and make it work. I just want one relationship to work. If I pass this up, I might never find another person. I have to give all opportunities a chance.”

“Lance, I want you to listen to me.” Matt placed a hand on Lance’s knee, “Life isn’t always what we expect it to be. I know that you really want to fall in love, and get married, and raise a family, but you’re also twenty-two. When I was twenty-two, I had no idea that I’d be dating my best friend, or that I’d be raising my little sister. When I met Shiro, I never thought I’d still be living with him now. I didn’t think I’d help him through PTSD-attacks and night terrors, or drinking problems. I didn’t think I’d be spending my twenty-fourth birthday in court to get legal custody of Katie. I didn’t think I’d be sitting on my bathroom floor with you right now. Life has a plan for you, just give it time.”

“But I can’t wait around forever. What if I’m really meant to be with Lotor, and if I pass up this chance, I’ll be alone forever?”

“That’s a risk you have to take. But, I’m sure there’s someone out there for you. They could be right in front of you, and you just haven’t realized yet. Hell, I’ve known Shiro since I was eighteen, but I didn’t realize I was in love with him until I was lying next to him in his bed the morning of New Years in my pyjamas. Eight years of living together, and I only noticed this year. It’s okay if you want to give Lotor another chance, but it’s okay if he’s not the one too. Don’t worry, there’s someone out there for you, I promise.”

The beginnings of a smile tugged at his lips. “Thank you Matt. I think I really needed that.”

“What are friends for?”

“For memeing.”

Matt let out a laugh.

“Hey… can you just… can you do me a favor?”

“Sure, what is it?”

“Can you not tell Shiro and Keith about what I did?”

“Well, usually I would say what they don’t know can’t hurt them. But, in this case, it could hurt you and them. So, how about we make a deal?”

Lance bit his lip. “And what would that be?”

“You talk to someone next time you feel this bad. We’re your friends. We want to help you. We want to support you in any way we can.”

“Alright…”

“Nope,” Matt held out his hand, pinky finger extended, “You’re pinky promising this one.”

Lance hooked his pinky together with Matt’s own.

“Promise you’ll talk to someone next time?”

“I promise.”


	19. Chapter 19

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Back in December, he thought Keith would be the last person calling him at three in the morning to chat about the events of his day. Even if his future self had told him this a month ago, he would not have believed him. Yet, here he was, fighting the sleep he had just recently caught to listen to his friend ramble.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, I'm going to start off with the fact that I know that it's been a long time since I updated. I am extremely sorry about it, but my semester has been crazy so far and it has absolutely drained all energy and free time from me. I am not giving up this fic, and I am not going on hiatus, but updates might take longer than two weeks to come out until May. I'm taking an extra course to catch up on credits, plus I have taken on other responsibilities around campus, which leaves me with limited free time. But, this fic means a lot to me and I will be writing it until it's completed.
> 
> Trigger Warning for mentions of domestic/child abuse, drug abuse, suicide, and self-harm.

Queen of My Heart  
  
Hey, I think I need to cancel.  
  
:(  
  
Sorry…  
  
Is everything okay?  
  
I just don’t think I have the energy to leave the house  
  
How about I come over instead then? We can watch a movie  
  
I don’t think I can leave my bed…  
  
I’m coming over with comfort food. We don’t have to leave your room if you don’t want to. Also, I’m not taking no for an answer. You don’t deserve to feel like that all alone.  
  


Air escaped his lips, arm falling back against the mattress as he sunk deeper in between his sheets and the comforter. His mind raked over his past conversations with Lotor, analyzing every word, every tone, every thought. They had always fought like cats and dogs, petty arguments escalating to screaming and yelling on every occasion, yet it had never gotten to  _ this _ before. Never gotten to the point where the couple had gone weeks on end without a word, visual or auditory, exchanged between them. To a horrid radio silence that neither of them had discussed.

He was a horrible boyfriend. There was no other explanation for why Lotor would cut him off so suddenly, leaving him out to rot away all by his lonesome. Letting him fall victim to his destructive urges, breaking his promise to Matt in secret. 

He was weak. There was no other word to describe himself. Shiro had been able to stay away from his poison of choice, strong enough to fight against the little words his brain insisted were true. Yet, here Lance was, new welts on his thigh from the past two weeks and a messy first aid job to match.

Warm liquid pierced his eyes once more, wetting his already soaked cheeks. He would need a cold eye mask to soothe the soreness during his sleep later on, but just the mere idea of taking the trip downstairs zapped the remaining energy from his body faster than an old cell phone battery. Curling into himself, he checked his old messages with Lotor. They had not spoken once since the fight over the phone the morning after the hotel stay; not one visit, not one FaceTime, not one text.

What had he done wrong?

A knock sounded at his door, the sound reaching from the base of the stairs to near his bed. He let out a noise, which his friend may or may not have heard, before pulling the comforter over his head once more.

A pair of footsteps drew close, “Lance, you can’t stay in bed all day.” When Lance only shifted slightly under his covers, Allura let out a sigh and sat on her friend’s bed, “Do you want to talk about it?”

“What’s the point?” He said dejectedly.

“Because we can try and fix it then.” Allura said, her voice taking on a more cheerful tone in an attempt to lift the mood.

“I’m just a horrible person.”

“Now, who told you that? Because it’s a lie.” Her hand found his hair, comfortingly threading her fingers through the strands.

“It’s not.”

“Yes, it is.” Blue hopped up onto the bed before she spoke again, “See, you have another visitor.”

“All I am to her is a hand that feeds her.”

“Lance, you know that’s not true. Just look at her face.” A frown fell upon Allura’s face before she forced a small pep back into her tone, “I brought tostones.”

“I don’t want food.”

“Have you eaten today?” When she failed to get a response, she continued, “You need to eat  _ something _ . Have you at least taken your meds?”

“Why should I?”

“Well, no wonder you’re stuck in bed. When’s the last time you took them?”

Lance gave her a half shrug, hoping that he could will himself further into his sheets.

“Alright, we’re taking them. Let’s sit up.” She gripped both of his arms gently, then hoisted her friend up and into a sitting position. Placing a few pillows in a horizontal stack behind him, she laid him back onto them. She popped open the orange medication bottle and dumped the appropriate dosage onto her palm. Handing Lance a water bottle, she waited until he agreed to swallow it all down. “I know. How about we call that guy you’re seeing? You get smiley when he calls you nice things. I bet he’d cheer you up.” When Lance let out a small whimper, she spoke again, “Oh… is this about him?”

“Yeah…”

“What happened? Who do I need to yell at?”

“He won’t talk to me.”

“Did you get ghosted?”

“I don’t know… I’m just a horrible boyfriend.”

“Well, tell me what happened.”

“We got in a fight, and he hasn’t talked to me since. Usually, we text everyday,  he’d call me every few days, and we’d facetime on Wednesday nights. But he hasn’t answered any of my texts and didn’t return any calls… Why does this keep happening to me? Everyone dumps me…”

“Come here.” Allura reached around him, pulling him close. “How serious were you two?”

“Pretty serious… he told me that he saw a future with me…” He sniffed, letting more tears roll down his cheeks, “What did I do wrong this time? I wanted to take it slow, because Plax and I didn’t work out because we moved too fast. Was that wrong? Should I’ve told him I was ready for everything? I don’t get it.”

“It’s alright, I promise. And, you know what? He’s not worth it. Pidge will be home in a few days and so will your brother next week. There’s still things to be excited for. What about Shiro’s birthday celebration? Are you not excited for that?”

“I’m going to get shitfaced.”

“Lance… you always get anxious when you wake up the next morning. Getting that drunk isn’t good for you, and it’s not a way to deal with your problems.”

“My problems are going to be here drunk or sober. So, who cares?”

“Lance, are you listening to yourself? This is all over a guy. He’s not worth losing yourself over. You’ve been working so hard with self-care. Don’t let a guy take that all away. If he doesn’t want to be with you, then he doesn’t deserve you anyway.”

“More like I don’t deserve them.”

“Now, you know that’s not true.”

“Then why does everyone break up with me?”

“They’re just not the right ones for you.” Allura paused, letting out a small sigh, “Do you think closure would help? Getting a solid answer would let you know what went wrong. Does that sound good?”

He gave her a nod.

“Alright then. Does he have any friends you can call to ask what’s wrong?”

“Acxa.”

“Then let’s call her and see if she has answers.” Allura reached over her friend’s body, grabbing his phone and placing it into his hand. “Will she be okay with you asking?”

“Yeah…” It was slow, as if he had to force himself to push each individual section of his phone one-by-one, each action disconnected from the other. Axca’s name appeared at the top of his screen, blue eyes locked in place as he waited for the sound of the ringer. Yet, even as the timer on the call began, nothing escaped the speaker.

Oh yeah, he had to put it to his ear. 

“Lance, are you there?” a feminine voice came through the receiver.

“Yeah…” His voice came out soft and hopeless, as if he had all but given up completely.

“Is everything alright?” Acxa inquired before speaking to someone in the room she was in briefly, “Keith, slow down. No one can keep up with what you’re saying if you talk that fast. And I’m on the phone, we can talk in a few minutes.” Her attention focused back on Lance, “Sorry. Keith, Ezor, and I went out, because he wanted to meet her. He’s in one of his energetic moods—Yes, you are, Keith, you can barely sit still!—Did something happen?”

“I… Lotor… Lotor hasn’t talked to me in two weeks…” He forced out into the receiver, “I don’t know what I did… is this him breaking up with me?” The last line refused to leave his mouth without breaking halfway through.

He really was pathetic, unable to keep himself happy without someone paying attention to him. Was he really supposed to consider himself anything but a sad excuse of wasted space?

“He didn’t say anything about breaking up with you. Last he told me, he said you two were having some problems, but he didn’t mention a break up—Keith, I’m on the phone. I’ll talk to you in a minute— He’s been really anxious lately though. He won’t talk about it, but it’s noticeable. I’ll tell him to talk to you, alright?”

“What if he doesn’t? Is that him dumping me?”

“If he doesn’t, then I’ll go over to his house and see what’s going on.”

“What if he still refuses?”

“Then he’s not being a good boyfriend, and I’ll get an explanation out of him.”

“Okay…”

“I’ll call you back if he doesn’t, alright? Just let me know what happens.”

“Yeah…”

“I’ll talk to you soon.”

He listened for another moment, waiting for the call to drop on Acxa’s end before letting the phone leave his ear.

“Well, what did she say?” Allura inquired. 

“That she’d tell him to talk to me…” He sunk further into the bed, praying that the pillows would engulf him. That he could just fall into the darkness his mind had him convinced that he could not escape anyway. Maybe he would dissolve into the mattress, solidifying himself into his never ending hole of misery. It was not even a wish for death, only a small plea to peacefully end his existence, numb to any consequences of the request.

It was not as if he brought any significance with his life. All he had managed to do was waste twenty-two years of an existence that was better off used on someone else.

The object in his hand awoke, begging for Lance’s attention with a disruptive bright light.

Prince Charming  
  
Hey  
  


It was small. One word. But, it was all he needed to get his heart racing and his emotions soaring. It was as if his hope was a dormant plane, and Lotor’s attention was the fuel that it needed to take off into the sky. Eager fingers hurriedly tapped away at the screen in his hands.

Price Charming  
  
Hey  
  
Acxa said you wanted to talk  
  
Can you call me?  
  
No.  
  


He hated himself for the pathetic sound that escaped his mouth.

Prince Charming  
  
Why not?  
  
Because I said so.  
  


His teeth came down harshly on his bottom lip. Water threatened to prick through his eyes as he read over the message. Then again. And then once more. The same sickening feeling began to settle each time. The type of negativity that had given him his urges to bring a blade to his skin during the last two weeks crawling around under his skin menacingly. There was no other option. He had to ask. A heaviness formed in his chest as he typed out his next message.

Prince Charming  
  
Are you breaking up with me?  
  


Blue eyes glued themselves to the screen as he awaited the incoming reply with bated breath and frozen muscles. The time on his phone had to have been lying to him, because the time he waited was  _ not _ only a few minutes. No, it had to have been longer.

Prince Charming  
  
No.  
  


He released a breath he had not realized he had been holding.

Prince Charming  
  
Then did I do something wrong? Are you mad at me?  
  
No.  
  
Then why won’t you talk to me Lotor? You can’t just shut me out again without telling me what’s wrong. You need to talk to me.  
  
I don’t want to talk about it.  
  
Then how are we supposed to fix it?! You can’t just ignore me whenever you’re upset about something. That’s not how a relationship works.  
  


He waited, his eyes fixated on the illuminated glass. He looked back up, met with a sad, knowing expression from Allura. He hated it, hated how his heart was on his sleeve, and his friend could read him like an open book in a moment as vulnerable as this. It was not fair that Lotor was acting this way, shutting him out and refusing to address the issue. Yet, he could do nothing.

Prince Charming  
  
Please call me…  
  
Lotor, I can’t do this. Talk to me.  
  
Please, just answer me.  
  
What am I doing wrong? Why can’t you talk to me… Am I a terrible boyfriend?  
  
No. You’re not. I am.  
  
What? Lotor stop.  
  
No.  
  
Can’t we talk about this?  
  
No.  
  


It was sudden, a tight chest and a lack of air accompanied by the closing of his throat. It was as if Lotor’s words and attitude were an invisible hand, his fingers wrapping around his neck in a soon lethal asphyxiation. Frantic fingers fumbled around to dial a call as each breath came out shorter and shorter. The phone rang on Lotor’s side. 

No answer.

Prince Charming  
  
I told you I’m not going to pick up.  
  
Then you need to talk to me here.  
  
Lotor please I can’t breathe. I’m going to end up doing something stupid, just tell me something. I don’t care what it is but just have a conversation with me.  
  


The object vibrated in his hands. Lotor’s nickname appeared on the screen and Lance had never swiped left faster in his life.

“Lotor?” Wow. Okay. That tone of voice was a more than a little bit pathetic.

“Yes.” Lotor said flatly.

His breaths stayed panicked, quick and terrifying. Trembling hands struggled to maintain a solid grip on his phone as he choked out his next words, “Talk to me. What did I do?”

“You didn’t do anything wrong.”

“Then why are you upset? You’re only ever upset when I fuck something up.”

“Is…” Lotor fixed his tone, correcting his error and strengthening the sound of his voice, “Is that really what you think?”

“Yes…” Allura’s hand landed gently on his forearm. The contact was small. He knew her intentions, to comfort him silently and encourage his continuation of the conversation. Yet, it was futile. He was at the mercy of Lotor’s next words, and he knew it.

“I—No. Lance. Fuck.” Lotor paused, taking a moment to compose his words, “I don’t want that.”

“Lotor… you’re anxious.”

“No I’m not.” The words were quick and defensive.

“I’m your boyfriend. We should be able to talk about this.” Lance pleaded, free hand fisting into his sheets.

“No.” The call went dead on Lotor’s end.

He dialed him back immediately.

“I said we’re not talking about it.” Lotor said sternly.

“Then what’s the point of dating?”

“What are you talking about?”

“We’re boyfriends. We’re supposed to be able to tell each other things.”

“Look, I get it. I’m a terrible boyfriend. You don’t have to keep saying it.”

“That’s not what I said!” Lance replied.

Nothing.

“Lotor…”

“Sorry.”

He let the silence settle between them, then finally spoke, “I really want this to work.”

“Do you hate me?” The words caught him off guard. So vulnerable for the man who kept his walls up so strong and high. 

“What? No, of course not.”

“You said I was the reason you tried to kill yourself.”

“Look, I was upset.”

“You don’t have to lie. I know I fuck everything up. I do nothing but hurt you and make you cry. I don’t like being like that. I can’t let you in, and I hate it.”

“Do you want to  _ try _ to talk about it?”

“What’s the point?” Lotor replied with a hint of hopelessness, “We’re just going to end up fighting like always.”

Lance sat up from his original position, crossing his legs under the covers and keeping his back straight. “I don’t like fighting with you.”

“And you think I  _ do _ ?”

“I didn’t say that—”

“I hate that I’m like this! All I do is get angry and yell about stupid shit! And then you cry, and I realize how much of an ass I am! Fuck!” His tone of voice lowered, “Fuck, fuck, fuck, I’m yelling again, fuck.”

“I don’t think you’re a bad person.”

“Oh really? I made you try and kill yourself, and I’m a good person?” The hissing of a bottle opening echoed in the background of the call, “I knew you liked humor, but you’ve never been so deadpan about it.”

“I’m being serious.”

“Oh. Really now?” Lotor paused mid-thought, as if he was preoccupied with another action. “I’m a good person? I’m nothing like my father? I do everything he does. I hit you. I yell at you. I’m controlling. But, go on Lance. Tell me all about how I’m an amazing person. I’m waiting.”

“Cut it out Lotor. I don’t think you’re like your dad. You’re the only one who does, and I can’t fix that. I don’t think you’re inherently bad. You’re fucked up. I’m not going to lie. But, no, you’re not a straight up sadist and like hurting people for no reason. You’ve got issues. I’ve got them too.”

“Hating yourself isn’t the same as taking out your problems on other people.”

“Well, you hate yourself too. So, we’re on the same page now, aren’t we?”

“You’re still naive as ever.”

“Are you drinking?”

“If I am?”

“I’ll hang up soon. You’re really mean when you’re drunk.”

“I’ll probably make you try and kill yourself again.”

“Do you want me to be honest about that day?”

“Yes. Tell me. Was I really the reason for all your problems?”

Silence intruded on their conversation. Lance’s free hand made it to the hem of his shirt, fingers playing with the fabric. He gathered his thoughts together on the subject, then mentally encouraged himself before finally speaking, “Not all of them… but, yeah, a lot of them. I was a depressed and anxious shitshow before we met. I used to cut, I was homesick, I had issues. But, I didn’t have an eating disorder, I didn’t cut as often, and I wasn’t as tired all the time.”

“Am I the reason you tried to kill yourself?”

He hesitated before he spoke, “...Yes.”

“Then stop telling me I’m a good person.”

“I don’t think you’re inherently bad, and I’m sticking by that.”

“I drove you to suicide!” Lotor snapped.

“And you’re getting help! You’re in therapy. You’re the most self-aware that you’ve ever been.” He lowered the intensity of his voice, taking a calming breath before he continued, “Knowing your issues is the first step. And we are doing better than last time we dated. Look, you’re acknowledging your own problems. You talked to me about something! I know it’s hard for you, so thank you.”

“Sure.”

Lance sighed before answering, “I don’t want another failed relationship on my record. We can make this work if you just keep taking these small steps with me.”

“Is that all I am to you? Another tally to prove if you’re an adult or not?” Lotor said with a hint of distaste.

“Lotor, let me ask you a question. And you have to answer genuinely. Do you love me?”

He waited for Lotor’s answer. Silence came from the other end of the call, and after ample time had passed, Lance spoke once again.

“That’s what I thought. So, don’t act as if I’m the only one doing something wrong. Get off your high horse. We both don’t want to be alone, and that’s all there is to it.”

“Fine.”

Silence passed between them once more. No words. Just the occasional sounds in the background of Lotor’s side of the call that Lance had determined was one-hundred percent, definitely Lotor drinking.

Lance was the first to speak, “I really want to make this work.” His voice came out calm and quiet, as if they had both just come down from an emotional high and were doing anything in their power to not end on that note.

“I do too.”

Silence again.

“We missed Valentine’s Day.”

“I know.”

“I still want to see you soon.”

“That can be arranged.”

“I should get going before you’re drunk and we end this on a bad note.”

“See you soon, Lance.”

“Yeah, see ya.” His thumb hit the red circle on his screen, signaling a solid end to the conversation. He let his body fall back onto the pillows weightlessly and directed his gaze onto the ceiling. He let out a sigh, processing everything that had just happened.

None of this was really new knowledge. He had known Lotor had issues with that side of himself. As much as Lotor tried to hide those things about his mental health, it was nothing short of obvious to Lance that those feelings existed. It takes someone who hates themselves to know someone who hates themselves, after all. But, Lotor verbally admitting faults? That one was definitely new. Though it could only mean one of two things: the therapy was working, or Lotor was beginning to actually let Lance in. In a perfect world, he wished it could be both. But, he knew that was not the case.

The weight on the mattress shifted as Allura moved closer to him, leaning against the remaining pillows on the side of the bed Lance was not currently occupying. She stayed mostly upright despite distributing some weight onto the plush additions to the bed. She studied Lance’s expression for a moment, then spoke, “Are you okay?”

His eyes stayed toward the ceiling, “Yeah, I think so. That conversation was just… difficult.  _ He’s _ difficult. But, sometimes you just do what you gotta do.”

“Lance, I hope you know that you can tell me anything.” The words came out concerned, as if Lance’s statement had not yet convinced her that he would be alright.

“I know. I just… I’ll be okay. I do feel a bit better. Like I could get out of bed now.”

She looked down, then back up at her friend. “I don’t think whatever you have with this guy is very healthy. I want you to be with someone, because they make you happy. You just sound tired when you talk to him.”

“Trust me. I’ve got it under control. I promise.”

“I do trust you. And I won’t tell you what to do, but just know I’m here if you ever need to talk to me. I won’t gossip about it.”

“Thanks.”

“Are you still up for a movie?”

“Yeah. Your turn to pick.”

She flashed him a closed-mouth smile and set diligently to work setting up the illegal movie stream that was about to take up the majority of the rest of their day.

* * *

An insistent ringing tore Lance out of his sleep for the fourth fucking time in the last two weeks. Of course it would only be when he was finally able to get a bit more sleep, despite his asshole friend insomnia, that he could consistently get calls in the middle of the night. Where was everyone when he was unable to get a wink of sleep? Because suddenly it seemed as if nighttime was the pinnacle of social excitement. Though, he wished someone would have asked his permission before making this time shift on him.

He blindly patted around the top of his nightstand, refusing to turn on the lights to aid his mission. Finally, long fingers wrapped around his phone and he tugged it from its cord before bringing the screen closer to his face. He read the name at the top of the screen.  _ Mullet Man _ .

Accepting the call, he turned over onto his side, “Keith, it’s three in the morning. You need to go to sleep.”

“I slept for four hours last night. I’m fine. Never been more awake in my life.” The words poured from Keith’s mouth almost faster than Lance’s sleep-fogged brain could process them, “Anyway, so remember how I showed you that guy I was talking to on Grindr, and you said he was cute?”

“Mhm. Yeah. What about him?” His groggy voice could not even begin to compare to the energy in Keith’s tone. Though, he had a feeling that even if he had not given Keith a response, his friend would have just kept on going with verbalizing his train of thought.

“So, we’re definitely meeting up tomorrow morning. He’s picking me up so we can screw around at his place, since Shiro’s all pissy about me finally feeling okay again and having a little fun.”

“Are you at least meeting him somewhere public?”

“I gave him the address to the apartment, and he’s driving here tomorrow.”

“Are you sure about this, Keith? This is the third guy this week, and it’s not even Friday.”

Keith let out a huff of annoyance, “Ugh, you’re sounding like Shiro.” The sound of pots and pans clunking together came through the receiver.

“Are you doing the dishes?” He turned onto his back. His gaze swiped the room, trying to regain his night-vision as he listened to Keith’s voice.

“Yeah.”

“You do know Shiro and Matt have a dishwasher, right?”

“Yeah, and?”

“It’s three in the morning. You could put them all in the dishwasher and go to bed.”

“But it’s so much faster if I just do it myself.” Keith replied, as if Lance’s suggestion had been illogical.

“Suit yourself.” He pressed his palm into his right eye. “Is everything alright, Keith?”

“Why wouldn’t it be? I feel great.”

“You keep calling me in the middle of the night. If there’s something wrong, you can tell me. We’re friends.”

“No. I’m fine. I just want to talk to people, and I like talking to you. I’d talk to Shiro, but he’s a killjoy. And Matt’s going to tell me about the effects of sleep deprivation. Deprivation. Dep. Ri. Va. Tion. That’s a weird word. It doesn’t sound like one. That’s a word, right Lance?”

“Yes. Deprivation is a word. Just think sensory deprivation.”He shifted underneath his covers. 

“Like when I used to blindfold you?”

“Fuck you.”

“Gladly.”

“Horndog.”

“If I want sex, I’ll go out and get it.” Keith said in defense, words still pouring out of his mouth faster than ever. “Not my fault if you’re frustrated.”

“You just assume I can’t get laid?”

“Well you’re not sleeping with Lotor, and if you’re searching for someone, you haven’t told me anything.” Keith pointed out. The faucet shut off in the background. “Oh, also you should come over.”

“It’s kinda late for a booty call, don’t cha think?” 

“You wish. No. I bought a bunch of hair bleach today. You should come help me bleach it.”

“At three in the morning?”

“So?”

He let out a sleepy groan. “Keith, you  _ do _ realize that you’ll have to stay up for a while if you start now, right?”

“Okay, but I’m not tired. If I went to bed now, I’d just be wasting a ton of time.”

“How many hours did you sleep the other night again?”

“I didn’t.”

“And you don’t think you need to sleep?”

“No. I feel fine.” Keith’s tone changed. “Look, if you’re not going to come just fucking say it!”

“I didn’t say that!”

“Well you obviously don’t want to come over! I’m not a little bitch, just tell me!”

“Keith, stop it!”

“Fuck off, Lance!” The call ended. Keith’s harsh words echoing mentally in Lance’s head. 

First Lotor, now Keith. It had to be a “him” thing at this point. There was no way it was a coincidence that both of them were speaking to him like this. He had to of had done something wrong.

Maybe he should just stop talking. That seemed like a good idea. He could not say anything wrong if he did not say anything in the first place.

His eyes glanced at the clock on his phone.  _ 3:42 A.M. _

Was there really any point of going to sleep? It was not as if he deserved such a luxury anyway. 

Blue eyes met the ceiling. He had been doing so well. His sleeping pattern was beginning to look normal, but now he was back at square one. The late night texts and phone calls with Keith had been helping quell his anxiety before bed each night, but over the last few weeks, the phone calls with Keith had been nothing but anxiety producing. Even the texts he received were concerning. Just stories about how he fucked a guy he had just met on Grindr while on adderall, or how he spent three-hundred dollars on new art supplies and was going to get his paintings in a museum if he started his hobby again. The conversations that had been bringing him tranquility now just induced stress and worry, the two things his insomnia loved the most.

Keith just seemed on top of the world. So happy after feeling nothing but misery since he had shown his face back in town. Was recovery that easy? Could feeling good again be so simple? Maybe everyone had been right when they told him that he had not been trying hard enough. 

Or maybe he just could not ever be happy. It was not as if he had ever been without depression for most of his life. Maybe he was just destined to be sad.

If that was the case, was trying even worth it? Would it not just be easier to give in to all his negative urges and spare himself the energy of fighting himself every time he felt the need to destroy himself? He should stop. Just accept the defeat and give in to every sickening urge to purge his food and slice his skin. 

He touched his face, spreading the warm water from his eyes across his cheek. His chest tightened, and he felt the world begin to close in on him.

This was about to be a long night.


	20. Chapter 20

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Although everything seemed to just weigh him down more and more, maybe he was not alone in his feelings of overwhelming stress these days.
> 
> Scratch that, he was definitely not alone when it came to drowning in stress.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm just going to drop this here and hope I can be back soon with another chapter.
> 
> Trigger Warnings for mentions of self harm, eating disorders, and suicidal thoughts.

_ The meager desk lamp dimly illuminated the bedroom. Faint light fell onto the pages of the book resting in Keith’s hands, each word finding itself barely visible as purple eyes roamed over the printed text. His head made a home on his boyfriend’s chest, letting the faint rise and fall relax him as he focused on the information being presented to him. _

_ A yawn came from above his head, the arm around Keith’s back pulling him closer along with the sound that escaped. The body underneath him shifted slightly. _

_ “If you move too much, you’ll block the light.” Keith complained, adjusting himself. _

_ “But I’m tired.” Lance replied, placing an emphasis on the last word, “I want to go to bed.” _

_ “Then go to bed. I’ll survive.” _

_ “But you’re enjoying your book.” _

_ “I’ll finish it later.” Keith pressed the top corner of the page down before closing the two ends of the book together. He reached over Lance’s body and placed it on the nightstand before laying his head down once more.  _

_ Long fingers carded through black hair, “If you want to keep reading, it’s okay. I’ll just put an eye mask on to block out the light.”  _

_ “No, it’s fine. I can read tomorrow. You need sleep. I don’t want you to be more anxious because of me.” _

_ “How can I be anxious when the best anti-anxiety in the world is in my arms?” _

_ “Piss off.” He said with laughter, playfully pushing a hand into his boyfriend’s face. _

_ Lance flashed him a smile. “You love me.” _

_ “Surprisingly.” Keith propped himself up next to the other body in the bed. _

_ He pulled Keith on top of him. “Come here.” His arms wrapped around his boyfriend’s back, securing the other man in place. _

_ Keith pressed his lips to Lance’s cheek, prompting a firm pout from the man under him, “What is it?” _

_ “You missed.” _

_ “You’re ridiculous.” With a roll of his eyes, he gave Lance the attention he was requesting, only to have his lips caught by Lance’s once more. Then again. _

_ “But you love it.” He pressed his lips to Keith’s, longer this time. Dragging out the moment as much as possible, he let the action change direction. Chaste kisses turned into heated ones, gentle hands became eagar explorative touches, and the moment dissolved into something that was only meant for the two boys occupying the bed. _

_ Keith broke them apart, “Not right now, lover boy. Maybe in the morning.” _

_ “Will you cuddle me at least?” _

_ “Of course. But it’ll cost you.” _

_ “And what is this payment that I owe you, oh mighty great one?” _

_ “This.” Keith grabbed at the fabric clothing Lance’s torso. _

_ “Hey Keith, you know if you wanted me naked, you had your shot about two minutes ago.” _

_ “You wish. No. Give me my hoodie.” _

_ “Your hoodie? Excuse me, no, this is mine.” _

_ “Nope. I’m your boyfriend. Therefore, it’s mine.” _

_ “So then I can take yours too.” _

_ “No. It’s mine.” _

_ Lance cocked an eyebrow at him. “So, you can take my stuff, but I can’t take yours?” _

_ “What’s yours is mine, and what’s mine is mine.” _

_ “And you’re calling me ridiculous?” Lance replied as he stripped the hoodie off himself and handed it to Keith. “For the record, I’m only agreeing, because you’re super cute in clothes that are too big for you. But, you have to cuddle me now, so I stay warm.” _

_ “Deal. Want your headphones?” _

_ “Yeah, that’d be great.” _

_ Keith grabbed the object in question, handing it to Lance before flopping partially on top of him. _

_ He played with the settings on his smartphone as he settled into Keith’s weight on top of him, “What’s your book about?” _

_ “Hm?” Keith’s voice came from where he was very busy burying it into the crook of Lance’s neck. _

_ “The one you were reading earlier.” He plugged the headphones into the audiojack of his phone. _

_ “Oh, it’s an autobiography of the author’s teenage years. He struggled with depression and anxiety for most of his life. I was hoping it would help me understand what’s going on in your head a bit better.” _

_ “Keith… you don’t have to do that. You being here for me is enough.” _

_ “But I want to understand, so I can help better. It’s not the only one I’ve read too. I’m going to keep reading these books, until I feel like I’m helping more.” _

_ “...I don’t deserve you.” _

_ “Stop it. Of course you do. Now go to bed. We can talk about this in the morning, but you need sleep.” _

_ “Promise we’ll talk about it in the morning?” _

_ “I promise. Now sleep.” _

_ “Alright. Night, Keith. I love you.” _

_ “Love you too.” _

* * *

 

“Yeah, I know Shiro. He’s been calling me in the middle of the night.” Lance juggled his handful of objects, making sure to wedge his phone between the side of his head and his shoulder. “I wish I had an answer for you.”

“He hasn’t slept in two days. He took a two hour nap, and that’s it. And he’s  _ still _ bouncing off the walls. Lance, he dragged me to the gym three times yesterday, and he ended up going for a run later too. And the amount of money he’s spent? He doesn’t have any money! But he keeps spending, and spending, and spending. How is he going to fix this?” Shiro’s stressed voice came through the phone. “I have no idea what to do with him. He goes from ecstatic to irritable at the drop of a hat, and the decisions he’s making keep getting him into trouble. I’m glad he’s happier, but this isn’t him either.”

“I never said any of this was okay. Just that I can’t tell you what’s gotten into him either. Is there anyone else who knows him besides us? Like, someone he’s been around in the last five years?” Skillfully moving around the items in his hands once more, he managed to wrap his fingers around his car key and press his thumb into the lock button. Once the sound of the car securing itself came, he shoved the object into his pocket and buzzed into the building.

“Just Axca, his mother, and his ex-boyfriend. Axca’s here right now, and he asked me not to contact his mother, so I’m respecting that.”

“Yeah, and I wouldn’t contact his ex-boyfriend. He still seems pretty pissed at him.”

“He used to call me sporadically. Sometimes he was as depressed as before, sometimes he was like this, and other times he just seemed normal. But I didn’t realize he was behaving like  _ this _ . Lance, he dyed his hair on a whim. He just bought the dye and did it. And that’s the least impulsive thing he did last week.”

“Look, I’m as clueless as you. All I can say is try to talk with him.”

“You don’t think I’ve tried that already?—Yeah, Matt? He’s doing what?—I’ve got to go. You can let yourself in when you get here.” 

The line dropped, leaving Lance use his shoulder to push the phone onto the top of the box in his arms. His hip pressed the button to call the elevator, waiting for his ride to the third floor to come. After a short trip filled with elevator music, he padded down the hall before letting himself into Shiro and Matt’s apartment.

“No Shiro, you’re not stopping him.” Matt’s voice came from the kitchen.

“Matt, he’s making a huge mess.” Shiro argued back.

Lance turned into the kitchen, plopping the box onto the table and witnessing the couple’s hushed argument.

Matt’s hand reached out for Shiro, fingers curling and grabbing a hold of the heather gray exercise shirt clothing the other man’s chest and using it as leverage to pull him closer. With their faces closer, Matt spoke again, “Shiro. This is the least destructive thing he has done all week. And so help me, if you distract him and let him go on another tangent, and he starts a whole new project because you didn’t want him putting books all over the floor, I’m leaving until he calms himself and taking Katie with me.”

“Hey…” Lance interrupted, “Hope I’m not intruding on anything.”

Matt released Shiro from his grasp, “No. Nothing.” He gave Shiro one last look before leaving the area silently.

Brown eyes met the floor for a brief moment before refocusing and turning around to clean the dishes in the sink’s soapy water.

Lance stepped forward, leaving his safe spot from behind the table. “Everything okay between you two?”

“Yeah, we’re fine.” It was short and monotone, refusing to turn and face his friend.

“Is it about Keith?”

“I said we’re fine!” Shiro snapped, head whipping over to look at Lance. Brown eyes met blue ones, but the intensity only lasted a few seconds before it faded away into almost a defeated look. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to yell at you. You’re not the person I’m upset with.”

Trembling hands found each other, becoming playmates before Lance forced himself to speak, “No, no problem. You-You’re good.” He swallowed, maybe the action would swallow the bubbling anxiety as well. It was not fair to associate Shiro with such things, but sudden yelling had a habit of doing nothing but ripping him into a mental war zone.

“You’re shaking… I scared you.” Shiro removed his hands from the suddy water, drying off his arm first, then his prosthetic. His voice broke into apologies before eventually speaking on a slightly different topic, “Can I help?”

His arms crossed in front of his chest defensively, as if he was protecting himself from a threat that did not exist. Shiro was not the root of the anxiety, nor was Lance the root of Shiro’s trauma, yet somehow they found ways to accidentally poke the beast in each other. Deep down, there was the possibility Shiro’s attempts at comfort could quell the jump-started anxiety, but his mind fought the idea. He hated how his mind associated the wrong people with danger, how those who he knew would never lay a hand on him purposefully would be considered scary people. Though, somehow, his brain had also come up with the absolutely amazing idea to date Lotor again. 

Sometimes, he wondered just how exactly his own lines of thinking worked.

“Everything’s fine. I just… I just don’t want to be touched, okay?” His voice came out soft, refusing to let his own gaze meet the one he knew Shiro had on him.

“I understand.” Shiro said. A sigh followed his words. When Lance looked up, all he was met with was the image of Shiro covering his face with his hands, letting his shoulders curl in as he rested against the side of the countertop.

Lance stood, conscience prodding him to speak with his friend, but anxiety begging him to exit the situation. A steady mantra of bad scenarios crept into his mind, attempting to coax him from what he logically knew was not a bad situation. Finally, he settled the internal discussion and decided on his words, “Look, I, I can’t help right now. Maybe when I calm down.”

“It’s alright. You’re not obligated to.”

“I’ll stand with you though.”

“Thanks.”

They stood in silence, only the sounds of each other’s breathing and noise from rooms beyond the kitchen sullied the quiet. After minutes focused on timed breaths and mental exercises to relieve the building thoughts, Lance spoke again, “I think I’m okay now.”

“I’m sorry for scaring you. I shouldn’t have yelled.”

“It’s alright. I know you wouldn’t hurt me. I just spend a lot of time around Lotor, and when he starts yelling, I can’t always tell what’s going to happen. So, I guess sudden yelling just sets me off now, because I associate it with that.”

“I still shouldn’t have yelled even if it wouldn’t make you anxious.”

A silence passed between them before Lance spoke again, “Are you doing alright?”

“Been better.”

“Do you want to talk about it?”

“Not really.”

“Alright. Then I’ll leave you to the dishes. I’m going to say hi to Pidge.” Shiro gave Lance a short nod before he returned to his chore. He walked away from his friend, leaving the kitchen and entering the living room to be greeted with the site of Pidge. Her hair was tied back into a ponytail, while her old beat up sweatpants and university sweatshirt clothed her body. She was preoccupied with something on her tablet, headphones covering her ears and brown eyes glued to the screen. With careful planning, he silently stepped behind the couch, until he stood tall behind his friend. Skillful hands that had grown up around too many siblings reached around her, pulling the headphones off her head just enough to whisper in her ear, “Hey, Katie.”

A yelp, accompanied alongside a jump that almost made her airborne, escaped his friend. “Don’t do that!”

“Come on, you missed me.”

Tilting her head back, she looked him in the eyes and replied back in a deadpan voice, “No. I was relieved that you didn’t come to school with me. I was hoping to never see you again.”

“Love you too, Pidget Spinner.”

“Oh, fuck you.”

Lance let out a laugh and plopped himself on the cushion next to her. Resting his head on her shoulder, he peeked at her screen. “So, how’ve you been?”

“Eh,” Pidge shrugged, “As good as I can be with Matt and Shiro arguing and Keith constantly trying to talk my ear off. They think I don’t know that they’re fighting, but I’m not stupid. They go from cuddling all the time to being overly stressed, and they expect me to think nothing’s wrong.”

His lips curled downwards, “If you’re stressed out here, you can stay with me tonight. We can invite Hunk too, if he’s not busy.”

“Really? Not inviting Keith?” She teased.

“Fuck off. You know I’m seeing someone.”

“Yeah.” Pidge put her tablet down as a smirk made its way onto her face, “Are you going to tell me about him?”

He gave her a friendly shove, “I’m not sleeping with him yet.”

“There’s more to a relationship than sex, Lance. Like a  _ name _ .”

A loud thud echoed throughout the apartment, and the door to Keith’s room swung open. Acxa stepped out, dressed in a black sweater and washed out gray jeans. Keith closely followed, clad in charcoal heather exercise pants and a flattering black t-shirt, babbling on about a topic none of them could have guessed. The new hair was still a change that needed getting used to. The small change of a red streak was something more rational and easy to process, yet he could not say that the new white hair look was necessarily bad. No. In fact, it did manage to complement Keith in a new way, in the type of way that had Lance left with the urge to run his fingers through the altered locks whenever his eyes caught sight of Keith’s pretty lips.

No. No, no, no, no. Nope. Not going there. Not allowed.

“No, no, no. Acxa, you’re not listening.” Keith insisted.

“I have been listening, Keith. I’ve been listening all morning, but the bookshelf is fine. You don’t need to reorganize.”

“But it makes more sense this way.” Keith replied as if Acxa’s statement had been outrageous.

Acxa turned around to face him. “Keith. Listen to me. And if you start going off on me, we’ll finish this conversation another time. You have a problem.”

“I do not. The only problem is everyone trying to bring me back down again. I was depressed, and now I’m not. Isn’t that what you all wanted?”

“It’s a cycle. And it happens over, and over, and over. You go from high to low and then high again. You’re going to crash, and you’ll be in the same place you were in before. Nothing’s going to change until you get help.”

“No. This time’s different, okay? I can feel it.”

“It’s called mania.”

“Why can’t you just be happy that I’m feeling better?” 

“Because you’re going to crash and be hit with all the repercussions of your bad decisions. I’m telling you this, because I care about you. If you were genuinely happy, you wouldn’t be sleeping with three different guys a week.”

“I’m just having some fun. Fuck off.”

“The same ‘fun’ you had every time you had a mood swing  _ exactly _ like this when you lived in Texas? It was the exact reason you left for Colorado, too. You have a problem.”

“I went to Colorado, because I thought for once maybe someone would actually like me again. Not my fault he turned out to be an asshole.”

“Fine.” Acxa crossed her arms, “If you want to prove to me that you’re fine, go and see a psychiatrist. If they don’t diagnose you, then you win.”

Lance bit his lip, listening to the unfolding argument between siblings. The little details in each one’s body language, Keith’s annoyed gaze and Acxa’s folded arms, gave away the exact direction of the conversation. He had spent too much time around siblings  _ and _ Keith, to know he needed to break their discussion now, “Hey Acxa, long time no see.” 

“Oh, hello Lance.” Her words came off disinterested, but her face betrayed her. She turned to Keith, “I have to go. But I’ll keep bringing this up until you get evaluated.”

“Wait. Acxa. Can we talk?” Lance leapt to his feet.

“I…” A surprised look crossed her face for a split second before she fixed herself and replied, “Alright.”

“Yeah, yeah.” He took her hand and lead her over to the balcony, sliding the glass door open and letting her step out before him. Pulling it closed to keep their conversation private, he turned to her. To be fair, the action also managed to protect his friends inside from the frigid air that him and Acxa were subjecting themselves to in that moment. Somehow, despite how the month of March was often considered Spring, the world had done nothing but been coated in a heavy layer of cold. But, that complaint was not for Acxa.

“Lance, if this is about what happened between Lotor and I, you know that’s over. I’m with Ezor now.”

“No, no, no.” He waved his right hand in front of his face as he spoke, “I don’t care about that anymore. Trust me, I’m angry at him for that, not you. I was actually hoping you could talk to me about Keith.”

“That’s a long story.”

“I have time.”

“I don’t.”

“Are you going to continue to try and not interact with me for the rest of our lives? You do know I’m dating your best friend, right? I’m not going anywhere. If you have a problem with me, you can just say it.” He crossed his arms defensively, “I’m not two, I can take it if you don’t like me.”

“I don’t have a problem with you.” She said. Her eyes met his, and the facial similarities between her and Keith screamed to Lance as she continued to speak, “I just don’t have much to talk with you about. I have to go. Ezor’s waiting outside for me.”

“Fine.” He let his shoulders fall forward defeatedly, “But can we at least meet up later? I still want to talk about Keith.”

“I don’t know. Maybe.” Acxa turned to leave.

“Whatever. If you change your mind, you have my number. And if you don’t, you can ask Lotor.” 

“I’ll keep it in mind.” And with that, she was gone off the balcony and out the front door.

Stepping inside, he shut the sliding door and laid himself across the couch dramatically. He let his head fall onto Pidge’s lap before kicking his legs up onto Keith’s lap. “Keith, make your sister be my friend.”

His words went unheard as Keith continued to ramble on about lord knows what as Pidge very obviously tuned him out. Though, it was not as if he could blame her. His late night calls with Keith lately had been much more of Keith talking constantly and not letting Lance get a word in edgewise than they had been about having an actual conversation. It was not as if Keith’s train of thought was really the easiest to follow, since he had had his new mood shift either, everything lately seemed to make perfect sense to him yet left Lance completely clueless. 

Something about how he had been reorganizing the bookshelf in his room came out of Keith’s mouth, and blue eyes glanced over to the door left wide open by the speaker in question. Books laid scattered all over the visible floor from the angle in his line of vision. The noticeable piles all seemed to have almost no coordination, if any, as if the whole project might have been disorganized from the beginning. Although, maybe it was not just Keith’s conversations that had become so rapid and hard to follow. If his ideas and new projects were the same way, it would not surprise Lance in the slightest.

Though, it brought an interesting point to light. What if Acxa had been right? What if there really was more to Keith’s new attitude and energy than just a general surge of new happiness? Keith had certainly never showed any of these qualities before he had left New York. The closest thing he could think of was the shift he had seen in Keith after the accident five years ago. Yet, an event such as that would have changed anyone for the time being. It had certainly changed Shiro for the long-term as well, any erratic behavior back when Keith was eighteen could have surely been just him trying to cope with the suddenness of everything that came with the crash. It was not necessarily connected to the Keith that they were all seeing now.

He shifted his head in Pidge’s lap. In all reality, it was something that did not need to be contemplated at this moment. Instead, his body called for him. Countless nights of three in the morning calls from Keith had begun to take their toll, and the comfy couch cushions underneath his figure only emphasized the point being made as they pulled him into sleep once more for the day.

* * *

Blue eyes stared at the slanted ceiling above them. His hands kneaded the fluffy white blanket covering his body as he let his train of thought go without any stops. Maybe Acxa had a point when she confronted Keith, that his friend’s new found happiness and energy may have been a problem in itself instead of the new impulsive behavior that had engulfed him. The possibility that Keith’s irritability, his sudden need to release his energy through constant sexual encounters, and desire to live life to its fullest may have just all been symptoms of a much larger issue seemed to fall into place much more easily than the idea that it had just been a shift into a better mindset. 

Yet, he had known Keith for years before he had taken off. In the time the two had been friends, and in the time they had been boyfriends when they were younger, Keith had never had any of the behavior he showed now: no unending energy, no strings of sex with people he did not know, no randomly snapping at people for trying to convince him to not go through with his bad ideas, none of it. 

Maybe he really did need to look further into how Keith was acting. Even if the new found energy was not the true cause of everything that had happened with Keith lately, there was still the possibility of something being very, very wrong. It brought him back through the last five years, the behaviors he had when he had hit low points in his life and the poor ways he had coped with those emotions. If he had managed to respond to his own sadness in ways that came off as him not caring about his own wellbeing, could that be exactly what Keith was doing as well?

Or perhaps, a cry for help?

Or maybe him and Acxa really were the ones reading too far into all of it. The possibility that Keith was telling the truth, and genuinely was feeling better and less depressed was definitely an option. Lance knew that he himself had changed throughout the last few years. While still bubbly, life had managed to seep through every crack in his body, leaving him tired of the bullshit and utterly convinced that he had reached his peak happiness. Who was to say something of a similar nature had not happened to Keith? Just, perhaps Keith had managed to spin it in a different direction. Keith may have proven that he was much stronger of a person. He had taken such a situation, and instead of letting it break him, he had decided to twist it into a reason to live life as much as he could, to be happier and to remember that he only had one life to live. 

If only Lance had found the ability to do that in him over the last five years between a toxic relationship, another failed one, the loss of a kid, and various mental health issues that had seemed to consume his life in the manner of an on again off again couple. Somehow, he found himself wanting nothing more than to stop existing on some days. Yet here Keith was living life, because he knew the same events could happen to him. 

Or at least that was his preferred line of thought. 

His phone buzzed at the nightstand beside him. Unplugging it from its charging station, he pulled the object close to him, eyes glancing over the message presented.

Shiro The Hero  
  
Can you let me in?  
  


He read it over once, then twice, before letting it sink in that Shiro was outside his house somewhere, as if he had casually forgotten his keys to a place that was not his. He pondered for a moment. Shiro never decided to stop by unexpectedly. He had always been the type of friend to make sure you were available before barging in and making himself at home. Something was off, yet it was harder to figure out than he wanted to admit. He raked his brain and thoughts for the source of it. Then it clicked. 

Shiro and Matt had been fighting earlier in the week, and Shiro had been visibly stressed by Keith’s new behavior. He must of needed to do something to get himself away from the household he was living in, as if he just needed to press his own reset button and reboot. Yet, the one piece that did not fall into place was the lack of asking for an invitation. Even if Shiro needed to leave, he would have not have walked all the way to Lance’s house without even the solid knowledge of whether or not his friend was even home. 

Oh no.

_ That _ was not the scenario he wanted to be faced with right now. 

But, his brain was right in one aspect. The possibility that Shiro may have been drinking before coming here was a very plausible one. 

He needed to get downstairs before someone else from his family answered the door.

Tossing his blanket to the side, he leapt to his cotton-clad feet and raced down the two flights of stairs to his front door. Peeking through the window, he glanced around for a glimpse of his friend. When the search turned up negative, he walked with purpose over to the back door. Sure enough, that’s where Shiro had been waiting, standing in the night air in nothing but an old t-shirt and torn jeans with specks of paint on them. In one hand was his smartphone, and in his prosthetic, was a paper bag that he kept clenched at the top where a small sliver of glass poked out. The bags under his dark brown eyes were more evident than ever, leaving him with nothing but the appearance of a very worn down man. On the bright side, even when possibly intoxicated, his friend knew a thing or two about how to sneak into Lance’s house without being noticed. 

Pushing the sliding door to the side, Lance ushered his friend into the house. Attempting to create as little sound as possible, he lead Shiro upstairs and into his bedroom before daring to utter a word. Silently closing the bedroom door behind him, he pulled his desk chair closer to his bed and gestured for the other man to sit. Once Shiro had settled himself in, he sat back onto his comforter.

“One, I still live with my parents. So, please, a little more warning next time. Two, what’s up? Is everything okay?”

“No.” The stench of liquor laced Shiro’s breath as he spoke. His face rested in his hands as he continued, “Keith’s out of control, Matt’s upset with me, we’ve created a bad environment for Katie, and I fucked up and threw away all the progress I made with  drinking.”

“Let’s start by putting this away.” He wrapped his fingers around the neck of the bottle in Shiro’s hand, gently taking it away and resting it onto his nightstand, “First step is to stop before you’re actually drunk.”

“What’s the point? I already did everything I wasn’t supposed to.” The tone in his voice came out almost utterly and completely defeated.

“Yeah, no, you’re still a long way from where you were when we met. So, I’d call that progress.”

“No. Here I am with alcohol in your room, just like before. What’s changed?”

“One, we’re not flirting in a bar. Two, you’re not actually drunk. Three, we’re not making out like high schoolers on my bed.” He went through the list, counting each counter argument on his fingers as he spoke. “So, this isn’t the same. You’ve actually come really far from when we met.”

“I’m just on a path back to where I was.”

A sigh escaped Lance’s lips. He clasped his hands together, then lowered them slightly before answering, “Shiro, look, I want you to remember all the times I’ve relapsed since I moved back home. Do you think that every time I fell back, I was doing nothing but going back to the same place I was in before I was sent to the hospital?”

“No.”

“Then this doesn’t mean you gave everything up, because you bought one bottle of alcohol.”

“But I should be able to handle my stress without needing to drink.”

“And I should be able to eat properly, but we’re not so lucky.”

Brown eyes met the wooden floor of Lance’s bedroom.

“Sometimes life sucks. It’s not fair—”

Shiro’s eyes snapped up to meet his friend’s face. “But it’s never been! Life’s never been fair to any of us!”

“Yeah. I know. You’re talking to the twenty-two year old with a dead kid. Life is literally never going to be fair.” His arms moved with him as he spoke.

“Everyone’s dead… everyone’s going to die… What’s the point?” Shiro’s hand threaded into his own bangs, tugging at them harshly as visible anxiety flooded him.

“Buddy, you need to take a breather. You’re stressed out.”

“I’m always stressed.”

“You’re not the only one, trust me. But you’ll think better once you calm down a bit. Wanna talk about any of it?”

“Why?”

“Because talking about these things helps you destress. It’s what therapy is for. You know, the thing you’re supposed to be going to.”

“Hypocrite.”

“And that I am.”

“He gave up on his bookshelf organization. He begged me to let him have the car keys to go shopping, so he could buy more supplies. He wanted to make a room wide jungle gym for Batman. I don’t know what to do with him. I can’t keep up.”

“None of us can, Shiro. We’re all trying to figure out how to interact with him right now. Did you know he calls me at three in the morning every other night? I care about him a lot, but I can’t keep losing sleep over it. It’s not just you that’s feeling overwhelmed.”

“I already lost one brother—”

“I’m going to cut you off right there. Because, that’s valid, but also you need to settle things with your relationship with Keith, because it’s not healthy. When I say you need therapy, I’m not just talking about the PTSD.”

A flicker of agitation settled in Shiro’s eyes. “Adopted or not, Keith is just as much my brother as Ryou was.”

“I never said that. But, I think you forget that I knew Keith before his dad died. This has been an issue since before your family took him in. You literally coped with Ryou dying by putting Keith in his place.”

Shiro rose to his feet. “Like you would know what that loss was like!”

He stood to meet him, index finger gesturing to himself as he spoke, “Excuse me? Do you really want to go there?! I literally have a dead daughter! I know what loss is like!”

“And we handled it differently!”

“Yeah, I was only suicidal and stopped eating again! Wow! What a wonderful way to deal with losing someone! It’s like it didn’t affect me at all!”

“At least you still have people left!”

“I—No. You know what? Fuck you! You came here, because you wanted someone to talk to. If you didn’t want to hear my opinions, you shouldn’t have said anything! And don’t you dare tell me that I’m absolutely fine after what happened! Because there are days it still really fucking hurts!” Without processing his own actions, his hand had torn open his nightstand drawer, knocking over the open bottle of alcohol onto the floor. Glass shattered across the room, coating the wooden surface in a layer of the liquid in question. His other hand dug through the contents being stored in the area, before wrapping his fingers around his object of choice and turning his back to Shiro. Storming to the door, a hand grabbed his wrist. Quickly, he retaliated. Wacking the person behind him, he yanked his arm from the other person’s grip.

“Lance, what’s in your hand?” Shiro’s voice still came out loud and angered, but now with more than a twinge of concern for the view that was in front of him.

“Fuck off! Why do you care?!”

“What do you mean why do I care?! You’re my friend! Of course I care!”

“Leave me alone! You can stay, but I don’t want to talk anymore!”

“Give it to me.” His friend’s tone had now changed once again, a sternness settling into place as he expressed his demands.

“Give it to you? What am I? Your kid?”

Shiro’s hand dove for Lance’s wrist, grabbing it in his fingers and keeping a tight grasp on the area in question, yet careful enough not to bruise the skin.

“Let go.” He almost growled. A sickening panic began to settle in. Shiro needed to let go, and he needed to let go  _ now _ . His breaths began to quicken, and he could feel the all too familiar tremble wreck his system. The next words came out in a tone much more panicked than he would ever care to admit. “Let go of me!”

The hand holding him quickly released him. 

He stumbled back onto his bed. Attempting to catch his breath as he let himself ride out the panic of pseudo danger. Shiro was not someone to be afraid of, yet the moment was just all too similar to ones he had been in before where there had been actual reasons to panic. A pang of guilt hit him. Shiro was genuinely trying to help him,  genuinely caring for him. He had just been sitting with his friend who, moments earlier, was finally opening up about what issues he had been having lately, and all he had managed to do was push him away in favor of starting conflict over something that was not ready to be talked about. 

That was not fair to Shiro right now. Or at all.

“I’m sorry.” Okay, that was a bit of a pathetic tone.

“No. I’m sorry, too. I started yelling and I should know better than to manhandle you like that. I let things get the best of me.” Shiro sat back down on the chair Lance had given him for the time being.

“I don’t want to fight with you right now.” He wiped his now wet eyes, “I don’t want to fight with you ever. I know Lotor was the one that wouldn’t let me talk to people in college, but the truth is, I probably wouldn’t be able to keep friends anyway. I’m always like this.” 

“I’m at fault too. I crossed some lines. I’m sorry. Don’t put this all on yourself.”

He sniffed, acutely aware of the liquid making its way down his face, “And now I’m crying again. I’m pathetic.”

“No one said there’s a problem with crying. If it helps you, it’s okay.”

“But this is the second time this week I got freaked out by you.” His voice broke as he continued, “I don’t want to be scared of my friends. I know you’d never hurt me. Why would I think that you would?”

“Lance, I’m not offended. Lotor was not the best person to you. He’s a big guy, and so am I. If I freak you out more than Keith or Matt when they yell or suddenly touch you, I get it.” Shiro was not wrong. Both him and Lotor were bigger men than him, both in height and weight, especially with the issues Lance had that caused him to lose his muscle mass that he had gained from years of varsity sports in his younger years. Though, despite it being logical why Shiro might had caused him more anxiety than others lately, he wanted nothing more than for that not to be true. If he could have anything in that moment, then it would be to not have any issues at all with any of his friends—Keith included.

“But I don’t want to think like that! How do I fix it?!” Panic rose in his voice once more.

“Therapy. That’s really the only answer. If there was any other quick fix, I’d tell you. But I spent too long drinking to fix my anxiety to recommend that as an option. I think you should go see someone before it gets worse.”

“But what if Lotor doesn’t want to let me?”

“He’s not in charge of your insurance. Go even if he doesn’t want you to. It’s something you need even if he doesn’t think so.”

“Okay…”

“Can I see what’s in your hand please?” His voice came out softer than his last sentence, gentle enough to make sure that the other man in the room kept relaxed throughout the exchange.

“Does Matt know you’re here?” Lance replied instead.

“No.” A puzzled look crossed Shiro’s face, eyebrows knitting together as his head tilted slightly, “Why?”

“Can you tell him? I know he’s upset, but he’s probably worried. And I think you guys should talk it out. Plaxum and I probably would’ve been able to fix things if we just talked more after everything happened. And I think you and Matt are a good couple. I don’t want some outside force to be the reason you two can’t make things work.” Blue eyes kept their gaze to the floor as he spoke, a defeated tone keeping his speech soft.

“Okay, I will.” Lance’s eyes followed Shiro’s fingers as he tapped out a message to who he assumed was Matt. When Shiro finished, he slipped the phone back in his pocket and focused back on Lance, “Can I see what’s in your hand now?”

Without a word, Lance handed the object in his hand over to Shiro. Blue eyes refused to meet brown ones, and his fingers played with the hem of his shirt as he waited for his next scolding.

“Did you relapse?”

“A while ago,” Lance lied, “I just had a moment right now. That’s all. I’m okay now.”

“Alright. Can I take it with me then?”

“What? Why?” Lance questioned with a hint of annoyance.

“If you’re not hurting yourself, you don’t need it.”

“It’s a boxcutter. I need it to open boxes. I work in a restaurant. We get shipments.”

With a sigh, Shiro returned the object. A silence fell between the two of them, eating away at any comfortability that had managed to survive through the ups and downs of the conversation the two of them had just had. They stayed there, not daring to interrupt the new intruder to their time together. 

Shiro was the first one to speak.

“Can I ask you something?”

“Go for it.”

“Does what happened between us ever bother you?”

“You mean when we saw each other way back then?”

“Yeah, that.”

“No. You’re not the only person I saw for a bit in my life either. Besides, it was just a month. And it’s not like we ever  _ did _ anything. We never fucked, and no one ever knew we were a thing.”

“I don’t want you to think that was something I regret.”

“Nah.” Lance leaned back onto the rest of his bed, “Plus, we both know I was the one crushing, not you. And, honestly, I was probably crushing, because I had just left a terrible relationship, then suddenly I’m in a bar and you bought me a drink and I’m like, wow, positive attention. I have no self-esteem, so anyone who’s even remotely nice to me is worth all my time. But then, you didn’t want to sleep with me, so then I’m like wow, you’re being nice  _ and _ you’re not a fuck boy, jackpot. We tested the waters, saw how it went, then agreed that it wouldn’t be a great thing for the long term, and we’re both long term relationship type people. I’m not upset. Plus, now you know a lot about me, so we got closer. Does it bother you?”

“No, I just worry that it bothered you.”

“Then we’re all good.” He continued onto a different topic, “Do you still want to talk about what’s going on with you and Matt? Or the Keith thing?”

Shiro’s fingers drummed quickly against his own thigh, as if he was gathering his new words. Brown eyes watched his own movements as he created his response. Finally he spoke, “Keith is out of control, and I have no idea what to do. I thought I was enough of an adult to deal with whatever insanity he was going to throw at me when he called me back in December saying he’d fucked up his life. But I didn’t know it was this. I don’t even think he’s aware of how much this behavior is a problem. And Matt’s starting to get frustrated, because it’s not good for Katie to see Keith running off with different guys three times a week and watching him spend heaps of money he doesn’t have, then never sleep. He’s always wanted what was best for her, and this environment isn’t it. And I don’t know if he subconsciously blames me for Keith’s disruptions, because I was the one that wanted him to stay with us, but even if I knew Keith was acting like this, I wouldn’t have changed my mind. I couldn’t turn him away if he was genuinely asking for help. I thought the depression was bad, but now he’s out of his slump, and I had no idea that it would cause him to make all these decisions. And whenever he comes to his senses, I know he’s going to be upset all over again. I just don’t know what I can do about any of it, because Matt’s at his breaking point since Katie’s home, and Keith refuses to listen to reason.”

“What about Acxa? Does she have any idea?”

“She seemed to be a bit better at handling him while he’s acting like this, but she didn’t have any solutions either.”

“Maybe there’s not a simple solution to it? I mean, think about it. You have PTSD. It’s not like there’s a simple fix to your episodes. I  _ struggled _ in college, outside of Lotor, because of my ADHD. There really wasn’t a simple fix to all the symptoms. Maybe it’s just a thing that needs long term help? I know when I felt particularly low, I sought out sex to feel close to people. Do you think Keith might be on the verge of being a bit touch-starved and wants some positive attention? Or maybe he’s just doing this, because his ex-boyfriend really was an ass. So, now that he’s over everything that happened, he’s trying to live life to the best he can, since he realized how temporary it is? Maybe this is him coping in a way that’s just different from us?”

“Even if it is, then that means he needs some serious help that none of us can personally give him.”

“Yeah, but so do we. Right?”

“I guess so.”

The sound of a cell phone ringtone interrupted their conversation. Shiro’s hand reached for his pocket, retrieving the device and answering, “Hello? Matt? Yeah, I’m at Lance’s. You’re here? Why? Okay, I’ll be out in a bit.”

“Did he call?”

Shiro gave him a nod as he listened to Matt on the other line. After a few minutes, he hung up his phone and slid it back into his jacket pocket. “I’m going to try and talk it out with him. Wish me luck. Do you need help cleaning up?”

“No. I’ve got it. Go fix things with Matt.” He patted Shiro’s shoulder as he guided him to the front door. After sending Shiro out of his house, he watched his friend walk towards his boyfriend, waiting until both of them were out of sight before shutting the door. He grabbed a roll of paper towels and a dustpan from the kitchen before making his way back upstairs to clean the mess he had accidentally caused. Dropping to his knees, he carefully cleaned the glass from his floor when his phone buzzed in his pocket. 

Acxalutely Serious  
  
How’s next Tuesday night at 9?  
  



	21. Chapter 21

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> As much as discussing Lotor was a thing that Lance often tried to avoid, there was something that did help to bring it up with someone that truly knew Lotor just as well as he did.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My knee just got better and now my ankle is sprained. Sobs. Why am I like this?

He pulled into the parking lot outside the Meadowview Diner, the small venue had a habit of bustling with more life during the nighttime than the day. With the the town’s stores and options for food closing much earlier in the evening, the diner had a history of staying open into all hours of the night to accommodate those with rumbling stomachs at midnight. Even during storms, the place had a way of staying open when nothing else could. It was their own small New York town version of a Waffle House. If the diner was ever to close for something, chances are the town would melt into so much panic that it would need to rebuilt from scratch from.

Stepping out of his car, he locked the vehicle behind him. When Acxa had messaged him, the two of them had tried to make plans for a time earlier in the day, but with the pair’s opposite schedules, it had been to no avail. Though, Lance had to admit, the main reason he had wanted to meet earlier than now was that he would have much rather have met at The Grind. He had standards to live up to, and he would only accept the finest coffee.

Okay, that was a lie. He would still drink coffee from the diner. Who wouldn’t? But, he would much rather drink something from The Grind if he was given the choice. Plus, the barista that worked Tuesday afternoons was pretty cute. 

He pushed open one of the heavy doors, quickly greeting the hostess before sitting down at the table Acxa had already gotten for them. One of the plus sides of working in the restaurant was that at least everyone in town already knew him. There was no awkward encounters when he went to the local stores and eateries, letting him easily make his way through the diner without needing to strike more of a conversation than a simple greeting. 

Sliding into the booth, he spoke before she could. Though Lance had a feeling that if he had not spoken, it may have taken her a much longer time to start talking in general, “Hey, what caused the change of heart?”

Her eyes raised to meet his, “Hm?”

“Well, it’s just that ever since all the stuff with Lotor happened, you haven’t wanted much to do with me. And now you’re inviting me out to get late night diner food with you. It’s seen as more of a friend thing. You  _ do _ realize that people are going to think we’re friends now right? Or on a date.”

“I’ve told you that I don’t hate you. I’ve never had a problem with you.” Acxa replied, “You’re the one making those assumptions.”

“Okay, but it’s a perfectly good assumption to make when you literally  _ avoided _ me ever since Lotor and I broke up the first time.”

She sighed, bringing her gaze to the table, then back up to Lance when she spoke again, “I talked it over with Ezor, and she told me I should just sit down and talk to you. Even if you and Lotor don’t last as a couple, you’re obviously friends with Keith, so you’ll be in my life either way.”

“Hey, hey, hey! Hold up. Even if Lotor and I don’t last? What makes you say that?”

She raised an eyebrow at him, “Do I really need to elaborate?”

“Yes, you do.”

“Lance, you and Lotor have one of the most unhealthy relationships I’ve ever witnessed. Both of you are terrible for each other. I’m not saying this, because I want you two to break up necessarily, but it’s an easy-to-prove fact that you two have a history of constant fighting.”

“Okay, but we’re working on it. Give us a shot at least.”

“I didn’t tell you to do anything. All I said is that there’s a possibility that you two might not be together in the future. There’s a chance Ezor, and I might not be together in  a year from now too. Not all couples last. That’s all.”

The waitress stopped by briefly. She quickly took orders from the pair at the table, jotting each request down before taking the plastic menus into her arms and turning to leave.

“I really do want us to get along. So, can we at least try to talk about  _ something _ ?”

“Why do you care so much about whether we get along or not? I’m the one that slept with your boyfriend.”

“He also told you that he wasn’t seeing me anymore when that happened, so it’s not your fault.”

She broke eye contact, then reestablished it when she spoke once more, “So, what have you been doing since you dropped out?”

“Not much, just working in the family restaurant.”

“You haven’t seen anyone? I hope you’re not letting yourself stay hung up on Lotor.”

“No, no, no. I’ve seen people, too. It’s not like being in the restaurant's  _ all _ I’ve done. I’ve seen some guys, seen some girls. I was engaged for a bit—Wait!” His eyes narrowed as he leaned closer, “Has Lotor been seeing people?”

“No. Not that I know of. Why are you so concerned?”

Lance crossed his arms over his chest defensively, “I have no idea what you’re talking about. I’m not concerned.”

“You haven’t changed.” She commented.

“Yeah, yeah.” Lance waved his hand dismissively.

“You were engaged? Why not married?”

“Oh… I…” He could feel himself physically deflate. Blue eyes moved their gaze to the side as he spoke his next words, “Lotor didn’t tell you?”

“No. Though he does talk about you. Just, not that topic. He never mentioned that you had been engaged.”

He pulled his bottom lip between his teeth. If Lotor had not told her about Plaxum, had Lotor actually kept quiet on a lot of the other more sensitive topics the two had discussed? To be more than honest, he appreciated it. Maybe Lotor really did want to change when he told Lance that he did not like the kind of person he was. Even before anything had gotten more intimate between the two of them, Lance had confided in Lotor about all the gritty details involving his relationship and break up with Plaxum. Blue eyes looked over towards Acxa again. As much as the information hurt to share, could it be something that would let Acxa understand him a bit better? Would it help them form a closer relationship? If he spoke to her about the deeper aspects of his life, the time when they had not seen each other, maybe it could instigate her talking about herself to him as well? 

It was not as if the information was a secret anyway. All his friends knew what had happened, minus Keith. They had all been there, while he had crumbled to his own grief and mental illness. And each and every one of them was still with him. It was not as if Acxa would be leaving him either. She was a large part of Lotor’s life, therefore she was in Lance’s life to stay if things went further with his current relationship.

He made his decision.

“It’s… a long story. So I met this girl, right? So, her and I hit it off right away. We were  _ super _ into each other and things moved really fast. And when I say really fast, I mean that I regret a lot of it, and if i could go back, I would definitely redo a lot of it. So we became an official couple really soon in, and about a month later, I got her pregnant. Everything was great. I was happy, and I was getting over a lot of the problems that I had and actively working to make them better. But, I…”

“Lance?”

“I’m okay. No, just, so we were at the hospital when they told us the baby had her umbilical cord around her neck, and it choked her when she was born, and…” Water rolled down his cheeks, each new breath becoming harder to obtain. No. He was not going to let himself make a scene in the middle of the town diner. Furiously wiping the tears away, he cut off his own story, “I’m sorry.”

“You don’t have to talk about it. If it’s personal, it’s personal.”

“I don’t know. I thought if I tried telling you what you asked, then maybe you’d open up to me a bit more.”

“All of that has nothing to do with you. I’ll keep telling you over and over, you didn’t do anything to me. If anything, I deserve you not liking me.”

“But I don’t have an issue with you, Acxa! I know that he lied to you. Trust me, I’m  well aware of how Lotor can get.”

She pressed her lips together, eyes darting to the table as her expression was consumed with thought. Her eyebrows knitted together, the same way he had seen Keith do many times in their youth together. 

What was Keith doing now? With his current track record lately, the other man could have been doing just about anything. Maybe, he was still working on the cat jungle gym project Shiro had told him about last week, though that was doubtful. The thought that Keith could be doing artwork crossed his mind, somehow less distressing than the other ideas of what Keith might have been doing at the moment. Something was just so familiar, so calming, about Keith doing art again. Back in high school, whenever Lance had been doing something else, most often cooking or taking extra time to complete homework, Keith had been by his side with his sketchbook of the week in hand. He missed it, missed how Keith used to curl up on his side and under his arm, letting himself get lost in his new piece of choice. It was nice, having his warm body pressed up against him, listening to his clam breathing and seeing the way his purple eyes practically lit up the room when he created something he was particularly proud of.

Oh shit. Acxa was talking.

“–Not just him. Do you know why Lotor did what he did?”

“Which part? He did a lot of things to me.”

“The cheating.” It was to the point. Just as everything she said seemed to be. He had forgotten how much it took to read her back when they had actually spent time together. A stark contrast from Keith, who let the emotions run through him when the situation called for it. Or when it did not. But that was just one of the things he loved about Keith, how passionate he got about things so quickly.

“No. We don’t talk much about it. We get in fights when we do.”

“You two always get in fights.” She exhaled through her nose, lips pressed together. She released her lips from the position and moved onto her second point, “You know Lotor has mental health issues, right?”

He flashed her a look. Of course he knew that. How could he not?

“Well, after everything happened, I didn't talk to him for a while. I felt used, and the fact was that he did use me. He used my feelings and my body for his own sick self-sabotage.”

“Wait. What are you even getting at?” He let his eyebrows press together as he listened as attentive as possible. 

“Lotor and I ended up making up and being friends again. It took a while to be back to the friendship level we have now, but the only way it happened was, because he told me why he did it. Do you know any of his issues with emotional intimacy?”

“I’m his boyfriend. He’s the most emotionally unavailable person I’ve ever dated. Wait, no, scratch that. Out of everyone I’ve ever even just had a thing with. He refuses to get close to anyone.”

“What would you think is the fastest way to break the trust of a partner or friend?”

“Lying and cheating.”

“And Lotor did exactly that. He felt like he was getting too close to both of us. You as a partner, and me as a friend. So, he did what he felt would keep people far away from him. He made us both hate him by cheating on you and lying to me to get me to do it. What better way to push people away than to do what would make them hate you so they do the distancing themselves? It’s exactly what he did with you the whole relationship. He hates himself and thinks everyone is going to eventually turn on him. So, he already doesn’t feel deserving of you, and on top of it, he thinks you’re going to turn around and find some way to hurt him. But, with you, you already had mental health problems. Your anxiety and depression already did the work for him. He didn’t need to break you and make sure you were under his thumb, because your mental illness already did that. I’m not saying Lotor doesn’t care about you, because I know he does. But he’s still extremely messed up.” She moved her phone around in her hands as she spoke, “And he’s going to keep the cycle up. He’s going to purposefully be an asshole whenever you’re getting too close to him and is going to flip out whenever you don’t listen to him, because he’s afraid of not being in control. It’s going to take a long time to change that.”

He placed his folded arms onto the table. Lowering his head into them, he leaned his cheek on his right arm. “Everyone keeps telling me it’s not going to work. But I want it to.”

“You and Lotor are the same. You both don’t want to be alone anymore. You both have such low self esteem that you think no one else could love you but each other. You’re not in love, so why keep trying to fix something that’s completely broken?”

“Look, I’ve  _ tried _ looking for other people. They all leave me.” The frown on his face grew larger, “Everyone always finds a reason to leave. I’m not good enough, but I’m good enough for Lotor. Yeah, we fight, but at the end of the day, we’re both in agreement that we want this to work.”

“But what exactly do you want to work? This is a genuine question.” She let her eyes fall to his brown head of hair, but did not lower herself to his level when she spoke, “Because if it’s a relationship, you two need to stop. It’s not going to work.”

“How do you know that?” Lance bit back defensively.

“Because I know Lotor. And I know what he does to you. In all fairness, you two could make it work. But, all it would be is both of you being miserable. Lotor’s going to take a very long time to get over his problems. And those same problems affect you badly.”

“Where’s all this sudden caring for my wellbeing coming from? You saw how Lotor was to me all through college, and you didn’t have jack shit to say then. Why now?”

“I actually did talk to Lotor about it on many occasions. But, if you want me to be honest with you, it’s because of Keith.”

Lance quickly picked his head up. A sudden intent focus washed over him as Keith’s name left Acxa’s mouth. “What about Keith?”

She raised an eyebrow at him for a few seconds before fixing her facial expressions and answering the question, “He cares a lot about you. He’s my brother. I just want him to find some lasting happiness in his life, and you make him genuinely happy. I can’t let myself sit by and slowly watch you become more miserable. I know it hurts him.”

“Yeah. Well, Keith didn’t want to be my boyfriend. He had his shot, and he dumped me. I’m allowed to like other people now.”

“That’s not what I’m saying. This has nothing to do with Keith wanting to date you. All I’m saying is that he really enjoys being around you, and I know he feels for you whenever you’re dealing with things.”

The waitress stopped by, a single plate in her right hand and a cup of coffee in her left. She carefully lowered the plate in front of Acxa, then placed the porcelain cup in front of Lance. She asked once more if she could do anything to help the pair before going on her way. 

His eyes stared down the brown liquid in the white up in front of him. It sat there, mocking him. He  _ could _ add extra unneeded things into his drink, but his mind began to scream at him to drink it the way it was presented. The pink and beige packets of sugar mocked him along with the available cream. It was so close. He could just reach over and grab it. No consequences. It was just sugar and cream, right?

No. He needed to drink it like this. This was better for him. 

His eyes darted over to Acxa and the food on her plate. It was not as if he had even ordered a meal. A couple packets of sugar and some cream really wasn’t  _ that _ much compared to what Acxa was eating. 

A small tremble entered his hands as he reached over for the cream. He tipped the container slightly, letting the liquid pour out and into his drink. His eyes locked onto how the new addition to his beverage added a lighter tint to the coloring. His fingers wrapped around a few packets of sugar, carefully ripping them open and releasing the contents into his coffee. He stirred them all together, before taking a few test sips to confirm that his drink was the the way he normally enjoyed it.

“Lance.”

His eyes snapped up, gaze now focused on Acxa. She looked back at him, her expression offering nothing to indicate what she had called his name for. “Yeah?”

“I want to ask you something.”

“Oh, I mean, sure. Go for it.” He replied, attention torn away from his debate about how he should drink his coffee.

“You’ve known Keith for a long time, right?”

“Yeah, of course I have. We’ve been friends since middle school.” 

“When he broke up with you in high school, did he seem off?”

“I mean, yeah, of course he did. But Shiro’s parents had just died, and Shiro took it a lot worse than Keith. But Keith was still kinda fucked up from it. I didn’t blame him for being off.”

“Not like that… I’m talking more about impulsivity, maybe more irritable than normal?”

He brought his hand to his mouth, index finger and thumb pressed to his lips as his eyebrows came together. Eyes holding a staring contest with the table, he brought back his old memories. Had Keith been more off than he remembered? To be honest, Keith had been very easy to set off during that time of his life. But, it was never as if Lance had blamed him for it. Everyone handles grief in their own way. Keith had just been upset and snapped at those close to him a bit more often.

Right?

“I mean, I guess. I think so? He was a bit more touchy about things right before we broke up. But I couldn’t tell you if he was like that for a long time or not, because he left town right after our break up.”

Her eyes flickered downwards towards the table. Letting herself get consumed in thought once more, she replied after a minute of silence, “Lance, have you ever heard of bipolar disorder?”

“Yeah. What about it?”

“How much do you know about it?”

“Not much honestly. Just that you have highs and lows.”

“So, bipolar disorder consists of two sides of a pole, to put it simply. There’s depression, which you’re familiar with. And then there’s mania, or hypomania when it's less severe. Usually people in a manic episode can get impulsive, sometimes hypersexual. Everything can seem great sometimes, almost as if they’re high on life. They can have a lot of energy and all they want to do is find short-term pleasure. Think of the pole as fast and slow. Mania is the fast, and depression is the slow. And people who have bipolar disorder cycle through the two.”

“Wait, hold up.” He raised his hands up in front of him, as if to pause the words Acxa was no longer saying. He brought his face a smidge closer. “Are you saying you think Keith has bipolar disorder?”

“Not for certain, but I used to live with him a few years ago. This isn’t the first time he’s acted like this. It always happens in cycles, so he’ll crash. Then the depression is going to hit extra hard, because he has to deal with the consequences of his actions. You know how Keith is. He cares a lot about people. He feels horrible for anyone that he hurts.”

“He didn’t seem so upset about breaking up with me.” He let his cheek fall into his right hand defeatedly. A pout crawled its way onto his face.

“That’s a complete lie. He was still talking about you when we lived together.” She paused to take a bite of her food. “He was hung up for  _ a while _ .”

“Then why didn’t he ever call?” His head raised for his second sentence. “I would’ve taken him back!”

“Because he didn’t know what to do. He knew he hurt you, and it scared him to try and face everything he had done. If I’m right about all of this, then that would’ve been Keith’s first manic episode, so he was probably shaken up by what he did.”

“If he knows he’s having these problems, then why won’t he get help?”

“That’s the thing. I don't think he does. I think he’s probably really confused and upset about it, but he doesn’t know what to do but to hate himself.”

“I… I can see that.” Lance admitted.

“I want him to get help, but I don’t know what I can do to convince him. Especially after he ran out to Colorado on a whim. I was scared I wasn’t going to hear from him or see him again after that, but there was no stopping him.”

“I just wished he called me while he was gone… I still care, I just felt like I did something wrong.” He dropped his head into his hands, letting out a sigh. “I always do wrong things. Lotor even agrees.”

“Lance, you can’t take anything Lotor says to heart.” Acxa reminded, taking a sip of her water, “He says hurtful things on purpose. He’s not doing it for any other purpose than to make you stay emotionally away from him.”

“Yeah… But it doesn’t change the fact that those things are true.”

“Lotor said you two are in an open relationship, right?”

“Not exactly polyamorous, but we’re not sexually exclusive.”

“Why? I know that was your idea. Lotor’s a control freak, but you still have a jealous streak. So, why didn’t you want to be exclusive?” She inquired.

“I wasn’t ready to be that serious yet.” Lance admitted, “I kept telling Lotor that, but he didn’t want to listen. He said it wasn’t going to work unless we put a label on our relationship, so I said we can be boyfriends as long as it’s non-exclusive. And I know he didn’t want to listen because of his own anxiety, but sometimes I think maybe my feelings should matter a bit more to him.”

“They do.” Acxa pushed the excess food on her plate around with her fork as she spoke, “But he’s stuck in a bad spot.”

“You think  _ I’m _ not in one? You know I went to a mental hospital in college. I’m not as okay as I tell people. Fuck. Why am I even telling you this? It’s not like you’ll care. You’ll probably go run back to Lotor, and then he’s going to call me and not leave me alone about it. Or Keith. And then he’s going to tell my sister. So, Sofia will be on my ass about everything forever.” His head hit the table with a groan. “I won’t even tell Hunk and Pidge my problems right now, so why am I telling you?”

“Honestly, I’m not here to be a pair of listening ears. Lotor is more than enough to be trying to figure out when it comes to people who are in my life. Plus, Keith told me you two talk on the phone all the time. He’s probably better suited to hear your problems. And I’m not planning to tell either of them that. That’s for you to tell them. You’re twenty-two, not sixteen. If you need the support, you need to tell them that.”

“Yeah, yeah.” He waved his hand as if he was ushering the topic out the door. “Can we talk about something else now?”

“I don’t have much else to say.” Acxa confessed, and she finished off her plate.

“ _ Nothing?  _ Not even something about Keith? Or some new revelation about my boyfriend?” 

“You won’t like anything I have to say about your relationship. So, I’m not going to say it, because it’s not as if you’re going to put it to use.”

A sigh escaped his lips as he lowered his folded arms back onto the table, resting his chin on them. Blue eyes watched Acxa wipe her mouth with her napkin in the silence that was just begging to be broken.

His head snapped up. “Okay, so you asked me some stuff about Keith, right?”

“Yes, and?” She raised an eyebrow at the comment.

“Good. Then I can ask you something about Lotor.” His hands clasped together for a short moment before releasing each other. His right hand picked up his coffee mug before he continued, “So the last couple times I’ve been FaceTiming with Lotor, he’s always drinking. And he got really  _ really _ drunk when we went to visit his parents, not that I blame him for wanting to drink because of them, but we talked on the phone when he was upset, and he was drinking then too. Look, anyway, I know you and Ezor live closer to him than he does to me. I just wanted to know if he’s actually doing alright, or if he’s not telling me something.”

“Well, that’s not a black and white question. What do you mean by ‘alright’? I can tell you that he’s functioning, he’s going to work, and he’s not an imminent danger to himself. By those standards, he’s okay. But, if you want a more indepth answer, then I think you know the answer to that one. Because when has he ever been okay?” She focused all of her attention onto Lance before continuing, “You already know that.”

“Okay, but there are different levels of ‘okay’. Lotor can be ‘functioning okay’ while he’s not ‘emotionally okay’. I get that. Trust me, I understand that one. But, I want to know more along the lines of just how much is he drinking. Because his dad’s an alcoholic. If he keeps drinking as much as it looks right now, he’s just going to get further and further into the hole he’s in. And he was just starting to crawl out too! I really think he has a shot at dealing with his issues, but I know he won’t if he keeps drinking. Also, he’s really mean when he drinks a lot. And I’m not talking his normal levels of being an ass. I’m talking about hitting you where it hurts.”

“I’m aware.” Acxa quickly glanced over a notification on her phone before looking back up at Lance. “As for the drinking… that’s a poison he’s picking for himself. He knows what it’ll do to him. He’s a lot smarter than he lets off Lance.”

“I know he is! Trust me. I know. But, I just want him to be okay, and if he doesn’t care enough for what alcohol is going to eventually do to him, then he’s not okay. He keeps things from  _ all _ of us. You included.” Lance said, “You’re no more special to him than me.”

“You don’t think I know that? But, I also know that he does care, and that he really does hate himself for how he treats other people but lacks the social skills to actually communicate that. Lotor and I talked about feelings twice. And one of those times was when we started talking again, so he eventually told me what was going through his head when he cheated on you. The other was when you were in the hospital, because he knew he was the reason you ended up there. He  _ hated _ himself for it. He couldn’t bring himself to come see you, because he didn’t know how to deal with the fact that he did that. It gave him so much anxiety the one time that he did visit.”

“Yeah, well you sure seem to like his side of everything even after you know he lied to you and played with your emotions for his own agenda.”

“Don’t act like you don’t jump to defend him. Keith and I talk more than you think we do.” 

“I already know I’m fucked up. And what kind of boyfriend am I to not try and at least see some good in him.”

“We’re two sides of the same coin. There’s no reason to argue. We’re taking the same side right now.”

A silence entered the conversation, letting the two look anywhere but each other while time ticked away. 

Finally, Lance spoke, “I… Does Keith… talk about me?”

“He does.” 

Blue eyes lit up as a pep entered his tone. “Really?” A smile broke out onto his face. “How much?”

“A lot. He also just has a lot to say right now.”

Keith talked about him to his sister! Did Keith talk about him to Shiro, too? Matt? Pidge? A warm feeling spread in his chest as he went over the information in his head. Keith thought about him outside of their conversations and interactions. Keith actually wanted to be around him. He really did mean something to him.

A different train of thought hit him.

“Good things, right?” Lance broke his eye contact as he asked for confirmation.

“Mostly. Sometimes, he’s just concerned. But never really anything negative.” 

Lance leaned his chin on his knuckles as she answered him. The waitress quickly stopped by, handing the duo their check for the night before leaving them to their own devices. Acxa checked her phone once more before leaving the amount she owed on the table in cash. 

“Ezor’s going to be here to pick me up in a few minutes. I just want to let you know to please keep an eye on Keith. He’s happy and energetic now, but he  _ will _ crash, and he’s not going to be okay. I know you care about him, so I figured I’d tell you.”

“Thanks. I will.”

* * *

Lance knelt down in front of the black and white ceramic bowl. Carefully, he scraped the contents from the can into the bowl as impatient meows filled his ears. He liked to think he did everything he could for Blue. That he bought her only the best food and toys, that he spent a good chunk of his free time with her, and that he had always taken consideration to her when making plans in his life. But no, apparently that was not enough for her. She just had to not even be capable of sitting for two minutes while he got her food together.

He stood up and away from the bowl, and the white floof of a cat quickly made her way into the newly freed space. He sighed, stepping over to the sink to wash the spoon he had just used. He ran the warm tap water over the utensil before squirting dish soap onto a sponge and wiping it down. Turning the faucet off, he dried his hands on the nearby rag. The back of his index finger rubbed at his eyes, and a soft defeated noise left his mouth. He had thought he had beaten the eyebags and had been pushing insomnia away just  _ a little _ . But, no. He could not even be granted that in life. 

Nothing a bit of cover up could not fix he figured. 

The green numbers above the stove shown through the darkness.  _ 2:23 _ . To be fair, he had gotten home fairly late, so he guessed Blue could be upset with him for only putting out his food now once he had remembered the ten million things he needed to get done as he laid in bed. 

Still, he constantly took care of her. He was allowed to slip up this once. It was not even like he was not going to feed her. Her meal was just a couple hours late, that was all.

Okay, maybe he was a sucky cat parent.

He eyed the fridge. His dad had just bought a six pack that night. Beer was not his favorite of all things. In fact, it was pretty far down the list. Yet, it was the thing in front of him, and there was no way he was going out to get himself something different at this hour. That was if he could even manage to find something that was open at this time of night.

Maybe it would help him actually get to sleep. Shiro had done that, right? His friend had used alcohol to lure himself into a sleep plenty of times. Which meant it had to work. If anything, even if it failed to bring him under the sandman’s spell, maybe it would help him feel  _ something _ . Something besides the anxiety that had done nothing but tell him that his friends were going to be upset with him once they found out about his relationship with Lotor and something besides the exhaustion that had riddled his body.

Or maybe eventually, he could at least drink himself into a false happiness.

Long fingers curled around the handle of the fridge before opening the door and swiping one of the glass bottles from the bottom shelf. Reaching into the drawer next to him, he pulled out the bottle opener and pried the metal off the top of the glass. Taking a sip of the alcoholic beverage, he gave Blue one last glance before exiting the kitchen. He could just leave his door open a crack, so she could let herself in when she was done.

One hand held the railing as he ascended the stairs in the darkness of his house.

The sound of the doorbell echoed throughout the lower level of the house. Quick feet padded down the stairs he had already conquered before peeking through the window of the door, because he had absolutely no idea who would be at his front door at this hour of the night. In fact, it was probably a serial killer. He was going to open the door, and he would be murdered on the spot.

Eh. Death could embrace him. What was left for him to care about right now?

Through the glass, a figure in a maroon hoodie stood before him. White bangs stuck out in front of his face and one hand stayed in his pocket as the other repeatedly touched his face.

Of course. Who else?

He unlocked the door with as much stealth as he could muster to keep his family asleep upstairs. Swinging the door open, he was met with a much more clear image of the man in front of him. Disheveled white hair and rain soaked piece of clothing were the first things that had come to his attention. The look could not be completed without the slight tremble going through his friend’s body and the puffy red eyes that looked like they needed nothing more than rest. The palm of the man’s hand came back to his face, wiping his eyes.

The voice that came out was nothing that Lance had expected to hear anytime soon. And, to admit, it was nothing that he could say that he had ever wanted to hear in his entire lifetime. It was nothing but broken and hoarse as the words fell out of Keith’s lips.

“I’ve fucked up so bad.”


	22. Chapter 22

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The last thing Lance expected to be doing at this hour was sitting in his bathroom with an upset Keith. 
> 
> Though, a part of him had to admit there was something that he did not mind about being a shoulder to cry on.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope everyone is doing well. Once again, I'm just going to drop this here and hope you enjoy.
> 
> Just a heads up that this chapter gets heavy. Big trigger warning for discussion of suicide and suicidal thoughts.

Lance blinked, frozen for a moment by the sight in front of him. The drenched maroon hoodie clung to Keith’s skin and messy white hair stuck to his face in clumps. A small tremble traveled through his body as the rain mixed with the tears cascading down Keith’s face. His arms came over himself, as if he was doing his best to provide some sort of comfort that no one else had offered.

He reached out, taking Keith’s hand in his own before gently guiding him inside the house. “Alright, you need to get inside first.” Closing the door behind his friend, he gave Keith another look over. Soft audible sobs escaped Keith, amplified by the silence of the house.

“I just… You don’t have to fix anything. Can I just sleep on the couch? I can’t—I can’t go back.” Keith managed to let out between cries.

“Is that cold shaking? Or anxiety shaking?”

“I don’t know.” Keith’s fingers grabbed the top of his hood, pulling it down further to hide his face.

“Keith, look at me. We’ll fix whatever happened later. But you need to warm up first. You’re soaked, and you’ll get sick.”

“No. You don’t have to… I’ll be okay. I just… let me stay, so I can figure this out tomorrow…”

“Nope. Not a chance. You’re taking a shower. Or a bath. Your choice. But you can only choose out of those two.”

“Lance…” His name left Keith’s lips, broken and weak.

“Yeah. That’s my name. Look, upstairs first. Then we can talk more. Deal? Because I’m not taking no as an answer.”

Keith gave him a small nod before sniffling and attempting to wipe his face with his wet hoodie sleeve.

“Can I have your hand?” Lance asked, holding his own out as an offer, “You can say no.”

Keith’s hand took Lance’s, and he gave his friend a smile before leading him up the dark staircase. The steps creaked underneath them as they slowly but surely made their way to the bathroom at the top of the stairs. Locking the door behind them, he stepped toward the tub and turned the faucet, letting warm water pour out. He took a sip from the bottle in his hand before speaking, “Do you want a shower or a bath?”

Keith only shrugged.

“Well, then you’re taking a bath. It’ll help you warm up more.” He turned around before he spoke again. “You can pull the shower curtain so I don’t see you. But, I’m not leaving until you’re in that bathtub. Sound good? Good. Because my mind’s not changing.”

A few moments passed. The sound of wet denim hitting the tile filled the room alongside the thundering of the bathtub before Keith’s breathing picked up once more. One breath after another, each closer and closer together before another sob ripped out of Keith. 

“Keith?” Concern laced his voice as he fought the urge to turn his head to check on his friend.

“I can’t—It won’t. It won’t.” Keith broke out into harsh tears once more. The sound of a body falling onto the floor echoed throughout the room. 

“Do you need help?” When he did not receive a response, he turned anyway, eyes meeting his friend’s current state. Watching Keith sit on the floor crying his eyes out in nothing but his skin-toned binder was not a sight Lance could say that he had ever wanted to see in his lifetime. It was as if Keith had broken at the seams, the loose threads from the last few weeks finally popping and letting out everything that he had kept inside him. Stepping closer, he knelt by Keith’s side, “Keith, I need you to look at me.”

Swollen purple eyes met his gaze. Nothing but panic and sadness oozing out from them.

“Deep breaths. In and out, okay? Just like you used to do for me all the time.” He sat himself in front of Keith before continuing, “Everything is going to be okay, I promise. Nothing’s going to happen to you tonight. I’ve got you.”

Keith slowly nodded, letting Lance guide him back into a slightly more level headed state of mind. 

“Hey Keith. Remember that time we went to that concert in Buffalo, and these guys tried starting a mosh pit, but the band was just so totally not hype. Like, the security guard had literally shown a flashlight on them, and they just stopped moshing. I mean, it wasn’t like they were moshing in the first place. More like they were just running around in a weak circle until someone told them they were being bad. I can’t believe they called  _ that _ moshing. Though I guess we should blame the band for that one. They just weren’t good live.” His eyes caught the muscles of Keith’s face begin to relax a bit. “I can’t believe we literally wasted fifty bucks on that. I mean, can you believe that we had actually thought we were getting a bargain price? We should’ve known by how easy the tickets were to get.”

“Those two drunk girls got kicked out before the headliner even came on stage.” Keith added in weakly.

“You’re right! I almost forgot about them! Keith, my dude, remember they kept flirting with us, and eventually, you just grabbed me and planted one. And then you turned back to them and was like ‘oh, yeah, I don’t swing that way’. Was that you being jealous?”

“You’re the jealous one.”

“Yeah, but you’re the one that felt the need to kiss me, because some girls were flirting with me.”

“They should’ve just gotten the message though. We were holding hands. I’ve never met a straight guy who holds other guys’ hands for extended periods of time like that.”

“To be fair, I don’t think I’ve met a straight guy with a boyfriend.”

A soft laugh came out of Keith. It was quiet and barely audible, but it was still there.

“Hey… you okay?” His hand almost made its way to touch Keith’s face, to brush the bangs from his eyes and see him more clearly, but he stopped midway. Considering Keith was almost completely naked on his bathroom floor, it was probably not the best idea to start touching him at all.

“Can you help me take it off?” Keith asked quietly, “It got stuck.”

“I’ve got you, alright?” He yanked a towel from the rack above before gently patting at Keith’s binder to absorb the excess water. He hooked his fingers underneath the bottom of the fabric. “I’m going to roll it up slowly, okay? If there’s a problem just say the word, and we can wait more.” 

He waited for a nod from Keith before continuing. Gently rolling the fabric up until it reached his underarms, he gestured to Keith to lean forward slightly and eased the fabric over his friend’s head. 

“Hop in the bath. I’m going to go put your clothes in the wash. You can wear mine tonight. If you’re not in the bathtub by the time I get back, I’m banning you from petting my cat.” Lance stood, looking back at Keith once more before gathering the sopping clothes in one arm, leaving the other to hold his drink. He padded down the staircase, careful to avoid waking the sleeping members of his family. His friends honestly needed to start remembering that he still lived with his parents before showing up at his house at all hours of the night. Stepping into the laundry room, he dropped the clothes on top of the dryer gracelessly before taking another drink from his bottle. He could feel himself getting sick of the taste already. 

Maybe he would take Keith out tomorrow while he bought himself a much more pleasant drink. It was not as if Keith was probably going to be wanting to leave that soon. They could drink together, deal with their issues by pretending they did not exist for a day. In all fairness, the plan seemed more and more appealing with each minute that passed by. Pouring in laundry detergent and softener, he pushed the clothes into the washer and started the machine. Bringing the bottle to his lips, he emptied the last of the contents. He traveled to the kitchen, tossing the glass into the recyclables. Grabbing himself another drink, he rummaged around for any traces of alcohol that did not leave the horrid taste that was currently in his mouth.

When his search turned up dry, he reluctantly settled for the brown tinted bottle he had retrieved a bit earlier. He snagged a water bottle and an energy bar from the cabinet before going back upstairs. Slowly pushing the bathroom door open, he kept his eyes to the floor. “Do you have the curtain pulled?”

“No.”

“Do you want to?”

“I don’t care anymore. It’s not like it’s anything you haven’t seen. We used to fuck.” Keith replied dejectedly, sinking further into the bathwater.

A frown crawled onto Lance’s face before he sat down on the tile next to the white porcelain. “I brought you a snack and some water. You’ve been crying a lot, right? You should have something to help you get some energy back.”

“What’s the point?” Keith asked, hanging his head low.

“The point is you should be healthy.”

“I’m going to die eventually anyway.” 

“Okay, yeah, no. If I said that, you’d be all over me telling me about how I shouldn’t think like that. So, you’re not allowed to say that either unless you want me to worry.” Lance replied before taking a drink from his beer.

“I’m not worth worrying about though.”

“Okay, that is a complete lie, Keith, and you know it. If you weren’t worth worrying about then I wouldn’t have ever let you back in. But, here we are. Just like old times, only the roles are switched.”

“But all I ever do is fuck everything up.” Tears began to fall down Keith’s cheeks once more.

“What is this really about? You said you fucked up. What exactly happened?”

Keith pulled his knees towards his chest. “I’ve just fucked everything up so badly. Everyone here was doing fine, then I messed it up. I did the same to my mom, and I did the same to my ex. I have no idea why Acxa even wants to keep in contact with me. I’ve done nothing but make her more stressed.”

“How did you mess it up?”

“What do you mean how did I mess it up?! I’m… like, like  _ this _ .” Keith gestured to himself. “I don’t know what’s wrong with me Lance. I don’t like doing this. It’s not me. I don’t like going around and feeling like I need constant sex and not being able to just sit still and think about what I’m doing. Do you know how unfaithful I was in my last relationship? I don’t want to be that person. I don’t like hurting people. I don’t even know why I do it. I don’t know why I do anything.” He pressed his forehead to his knees. “I showed up expecting Shiro to take care of me. And all I did is fuck up his relationship. And now he’s drinking again, too. It’s all my fault. I know they’re fighting because of me. I know Shiro was drinking the other night because of me. I know you’re more stressed because of me. I know that everywhere I go, I just screw everything up. Why am I like this?” The last sentence came out with a broken voice.

“Hey, look, what’s done is done. You can’t fix that. Now, you just have to figure out where to go from here. At least that’s what my therapist always told me.”

“But I  _ always  _ do this. And I don’t know why. I don’t even know why I broke up with you still! I can try and put it together all I want, but it doesn’t change the fact that I still don’t know why I make these decisions. And the credit card bill came in, and I don’t even know how I have any credit left… Lance, do you have any idea how much money I owe?”

“No, but I think I can guess.” He took a drink before continuing, “Look, we broke up. It’s done. We’ve both moved on. We’ve dated other people, and we’ve slept with other people. But, we’re friends now. So it’s fine.”

“But it’s not! I don’t want to keep doing these things! I scare myself.”

Lance bit his lip, then turned his head to look at Keith as he spoke, “Keith, I want you to answer me honestly.”

“Okay…”

“Do you feel like you need help?”

“I don’t know.”

“What about your feelings?” He paused, staring at his drink as he gathered his thoughts. Even when he spoke, he did not look up. “Why do you want to die? Is it a fleeting feeling of just not knowing what to do? Or is it something that keeps you up at night, thinking of how there’s no way out?” His fingers began to feel a familiar tremble as he continued, “Do you feel so numb and tired, and you just want to  _ stop _ but you don’t know how?” His fingers gripped at the hem of his navy boxers. “Because I’ve been there. I am there. I just want to know what’s going through your head, like you used to do for me. I haven’t read a million books on mental health, but I have experience. Maybe I can help… even if it’s just a little.”

“I…” Keith’s voice caught in his throat for a moment, his body making him force the words out of himself, “I don’t know. I just don’t know what to do anymore. My life is a  mess, and I can’t fix it. I just keep dragging people down with me. I’m in so much debt, I just fucked up Shiro’s relationship, I don’t even have the number of half the people I slept with, and even if I do fix it, I know I’m just going to do it all over again. I don’t want to be like this.” A sob escaped him. “I’m just so sad, and I want everything to stop. I don’t know what else to do. I don’t think I can stop myself if I’m still alive.” 

Lance reached out, hand stalling in mid air as it trembled upon the realization that Keith’s hands were not in reach. An unfortunately familiar wetness fell down his face as he spoke, “Keith… can I?… can I just?”

Keith seemed to understand. Without a word, he gave Lance one of his hands.

It was as if he had just stepped into teenage Keith’s shoes. Listening to the words of someone that he cared about  _ so much _ , listening to them talk about how their life meant nothing to them. Hearing words that eventually came together to mean that Keith was so sad, so lost, that he could think of no other way out than to consider taking his own life away from himself. Professional help no longer felt right. Neither did turning to friends. All that he felt was that it was best to cut himself off now before it got any worse. If he was not going to be happy, what was the point?

And it  _ hurt _ .

It was a sharp, wrenching pain. It pierced through him and had him biting his own lip to keep himself from breaking into pieces then and there. The water from his eyes was a lost cause to try and stop. Had this been what Keith had felt over and over again during their relationship? Every time Lance had mentioned his wish for death, had Keith had to feel like  _ this _ ? It was hard enough now to stomach in just this moment. And Keith had dealt with Lance in this state countless times in their youth, dealing with the same heart wrenching feeling each and every time.

He wanted to reach out to Keith. Hug him and hold him close, tell him that everything would be okay. Lie and say that the world was not as cruel as he had begun to believe as he tried to take away the pain Keith had succumbed to. Though, he knew that he could not actually do anything about it in the end. The world was like that. Mental health was like that. 

Keith interlocked their fingers, keeping their hands clasped tightly, “Can I ask you too?”

“Ask… ask me what?”

“Why you feel like this. Five years later, and you’re even more depressed than when we last saw each other. I want to know.”

“I… it’s long…”

“I’m not going anywhere.”

“I just… Everything seems so pointless. I feel like I haven’t gone anywhere in my life.” He took a drink from his bottle before continuing, “No matter what I do, I’m just still miserable. I can work at getting better, but in the end it doesn’t do anything. So… sometimes… I just think giving up is better… because I’m just wasting energy. I’m honestly not even that sad anymore… At some point along the way, it just all got numb and exhausting. I don’t really think there’s a point. And everytime something comes along that starts to convince me that there is a point, that I should get better and take care of myself, life rips it away from me.”

“Do you ever talk about it?”

“No… it just worries everyone. Besides, it’s not like I’m actually going to do it. If I fuck up and my family catches me, it’s right back to the hospital I go.”

“...Can I ask why you went to the hospital?”

“I tried to kill myself. I waited for Hunk to go to class, cut myself as deep as I could, took all my medication and waited to just stop existing… I didn’t expect Hunk to forget one of his textbooks and find me before I was gone…”

“You…” Wide purple eyes looked at him, shock and terror reflecting in them. Keith’s voice came out shaky, “And you expect me to not worry?!”

“Look,” He could feel himself shrink, his tone becoming softer as he broke any and all eye contact, “It was a long time ago. I’m fine now.”

“No! You can’t expect me to just take it like it’s nothing. You almost… you… you almost died…” Keith took a shaky breath, his free hand coming up to thread itself in his now white hair. “I can’t…”

“Keith…”

“I could’ve come back, and you wouldn’t of been here… I… Lance, I don’t think I could’ve forgiven myself.” Keith sucked in another unsteady breath. “I told you all those times I’d be here, and then I wasn’t. And then you tried to kill yourself when I wasn’t. What if I came back, and you were dead? I already came back, and you’re  _ more  _ depressed. I shouldn’t of promised anything. I told you you could rely on me, and then I just left.”

“Hey, I don’t want you blaming yourself. It wasn’t anything that you could’ve prevented. I was just in a really bad place. I’ve gotten help. I’ll figure it all out.”

“How can I not blame myself?!”

“Because you never made me do it. That was my own choice.” Lance said, “I promise I’m okay now. It was just a dark time for me.”

“But you used to tell me about how you felt… and now it’s like you keep it to yourself. How am I supposed to believe you’re okay if you’ve tried to take your own life before? What if you try again?”

“Stop, okay?! I’m not!”

“I’m allowed to be fucking concerned for you, Lance!”

“You don’t have to be! I’ve been fine! I made it out alive from everything. Stop worrying.”

“What do you mean stop? I can’t just stop! I care about you! I never stopped caring about you!”

“I just need you to believe me when I say I’m fine. Everything else will just figure itself out.”

“Do you believe me when I tell you I’m fine?”

“No.”

“It’s the same thing, Lance.” Keith pointed out, “If you don’t believe I’m fine, then what makes you think I’m going to believe that you’re really okay?”

“I don’t know, okay? I don’t know. But, I don’t need more people worried about me.”

“But, I want to worry about you. I care. If you’re having a hard time, I want to know that you’re at least telling someone about it, even if it’s not me.”

“That’s what I have a boyfriend for, Keith.” Lance finished off his drink.

“He’s not the person you should be talking about those problems with if he broke your finger for not showing him your phone.”

“Yeah, well, not like any of my other relationships worked out anyway.” He looked away from Keith, keeping his eyes far away from the other man in the room.

“You can’t find someone if you stay with him. No one else will come along, because they’ll just see ‘relationship’ plastered all over you.”

“That’s good advice for someone who actually has a shot at getting people to like them.”

“Lance?”

“Yeah?”

“I know you say that a lot. But, do you really think that about yourself?”

“Think what? That no one will ever love me? Yeah.”

“That’s crazy!” Keith exclaimed, “Anyone would be lucky to have you.”

“Funny coming from the guy who dumped me out of the blue.”

“I told you, I still don’t know why I did it. If I could go back, I wouldn’t of done it.”

“Well, it’s done now, isn’t it?”

“Yeah…” Keith’s voice came out quieter.

“I’ll go get you some clothes.” Lance stood, then exited the room. Turning the corner of the hallway, he opened the door to his room and stepped up the stairs. Quickly rummaging through his dresser, he picked out an extra large t-shirt and a pair of sweatpants. Scooping up the articles of clothing in his arms, he traveled back to the bathroom where he had left Keith. He closed the door behind him before speaking, “I don’t know how you really feel about sharing underwear, so I hope you’re fine without.”

“Thanks.” Keith moved the towel he was drying himself with to wrap around his waist. Taking the fabrics from Lance he slipped on the shirt before going back to removing the excess moisture from his legs. Once he was done, he put on the sweatpants. 

“I’m going to flip your laundry real quick, then I’ll meet you in my room,” Lance informed before leaving Keith to his own devices. Making his way downstairs, he tossed the second bottle in the recycling before making his way into the laundry room. He switched Keith’s clothing into the drier, set the cycle, then grabbed another bottle and headed to his bedroom.

Entering into the room, Lance was met with the visual of Keith standing slightly awkwardly, as if he did not know where to go. Though, despite the way Keith seemed a bit out of place in the setting, it was not as if Lance could deny that he liked how his friend looked while adorned in his clothes, biting his bottom lip as he focused on the way the oversized fabrics hung off Keith. He could press his mouth against Keith’s, threading one hand in his hair, the other grazing over the skin of his stomach. It would be so easy to press against him and slide a hand below the waistline of the sweatpants. To get close to Keith and spend the rest of the night tangled in the sheets of his bed with him as they entertained each other.

Keith’s words ripped him from his slowly spiraling train of thought. “I can sleep on the couch.” 

“What? No. Dude, take my bed, it’s fine. I can go downstairs. Besides, I think my parents would have an easier time seeing me down there than knowing you showed up here before I cleaned the house to their standards.” Lance reached over and behind his nightstand, hand wrapping around the square block to his charger.

“I can’t just take your bed like that Lance.”

“I said it was fine.”

“I don’t care.”

“It’s big enough for two people. We’ll share then.” Lance suggested, plugging his phone charger back into the wall, “If that doesn’t bother you.”

“You slept in my bed with me not that long ago.” Keith reminded.

“Yeah, but like, I was freaking out. I just assumed you felt bad for me.” Lance replied with a dismissive wave of his hand.

“No. I… I actually liked having you there.” Keith confessed, purple eyes meeting the floorboards of Lance’s room and voice becoming softer with every word.

Lance moved his gaze to look at Keith. “You did?”

“Yeah. A lot.” Keith brought his bottom lip between his teeth. “It was nice.”

He pressed his lips together into a thin line, before letting his face relax into a smile. His hand reached out daringly towards Keith’s, bringing the tips of their fingers together affectionately. Though, the physical contact seemed to be his replacement for meeting Keith’s gaze, as he looked to the other side of the room as he spoke, “I liked it too.”

Keith’s hand began to play with Lance’s fingers absentmindedly. “I… we could… can we… I… are you okay with—”

“Yeah. We can.” Lance answered, as if he knew the exact question Keith was struggling to ask him, “You know… you’re allowed to just ask me for that. I won’t think it’s weird. I’m just a touchy person in general anyway.”

“I know, but you have a boyfriend, and…” His gaze kept to the floor as he trailed off, as if he no longer knew how to finish his sentence.

“We’re not exclusive.” Lance informed, “I—Well, not sexually. I’m just not supposed to be trying to find another boyfriend.”

“I don’t want to get you in trouble with your boyfriend. I’ve fucked enough things up lately. I don’t want to hurt anyone else…” Keith’s tone quickly slipped into a defeated one, as if he was preparing himself to begin the waterworks that had ruled the night once more.

“Keith, I need you to look at me, okay?” He waited until he held the attention of Keith’s gaze before continuing, “Don’t you ever think you’re burdening people, because you’re not. And you’re not a bad person. You’re trying to figure out the why to your actions, and that’s a big start. We all have to start somewhere with this stuff, even I did. Remember? I used to cry for no reason and get a bit short, and I had no idea why I was constantly so sad and unmotivated. I thought I was just lazy and worthless, and then I got my depression diagnosis. You need help, and the sooner you get it, the more progress you’re going to make, alright?”

“I just want things to go back to how they were five years ago. We were happy. I still had family looking after me. I had a plan for my life, even if it was as simple as marrying you.” Keith’s expression dropped even more than it had already. “I was actually normal then too…”

“Alright, Keith Gyeong, you have never been a normal guy. You’ve always had weird quirks and odd interests. And it’s probably why I fell in love with you in the first place when we were teens. But, the main point of this is that you’re not normal, but it’s not because of your mental illness. Keep telling yourself that, and it’ll make you want to die even sooner.”

“Fine.” Keith replied, wiping his eye with the base of his palm.

“Why don’t we just go to bed? You’re tired, and we can talk about this more in the morning.”

Keith took a step towards Lance’s bed before stopping himself. “I can leave before you’re awake if you want. I know I showed up without warning.” 

“Yeah, well you’re not the first person to do that to me.” He took a sip from the bottle in his hand. “And maybe I want a cuddle buddy tonight.”

“I still feel like I’ve been intruding.” Keith let out a sad laugh under his breath. “Funny since I basically used to live here as a teenager, huh?” 

“You’re still welcome here. My parents still adore you. And they adore Lotor too, so I don’t think there’s anything you can really do to make them  _ not _ like you.” He began to lead Keith toward his bed.

Nothing was said for a moment, then Keith spoke again, “Lance?”

“Yeah, what’s up?”

“Are you ever going to tell your family about him? How he treats you? They could support you.”

A sigh escaped Lance’s lips, and he sat back onto the bed. “I don’t know. I think it’s best I keep it all from them. I don’t need to be adding more fuel to the fire with how they worry.”

“I just want you to be okay.” Keith crawled under the covers, settling in with the comforter on top of him. “Can you at least let me worry about you and not take it in the wrong way? Because I do trust you. But, I still worry.”

Lance joined him, leaving his half-finished beer on his nightstand. “I don’t understand why you’re so convinced I’m not okay.”

“You don’t really smile anymore. You just look tired. You were depressed in high school, but this is different.”

“Well yeah, of course it’s different. I was doing a lot of therapy back then.”

“And why did you stop? It was helping you.”

“Lotor didn’t want me going anymore. He really hated me talking to anyone that wasn’t him and  _ maybe _ his friends.”

“I just want to see you feel okay again.”

“I don’t think I’ve  _ ever _ been okay to be completely honest. Like, yeah, there are times that I feel better than others, but I don't think that really made me okay. I always feel so hopeless. I didn’t really think there’s a point, I still don’t.”

Keith’s hand took Lance’s, intertwining their fingers before Keith gave him a reassuring squeeze. “Why?”

“I think we’re all going to die anyway. Yeah, sometimes things are going pretty okay, and I don’t feel that bad, but in the end I always just end up feeling horrible. Like, yeah, I want to get better. But we don’t always get what we want. And I don’t think I’m ever going to. But, maybe if I can try and pretend to be happy, I can hope some of it will rub off on me?”

“Then why are you telling me to get help if it’s all bull to you?”

“I think you’re a better person than me. And, I think you actually have a fixable problem.” His eyes moved up to the ceiling. “I’ve been trying my whole life to fix my problems, and they just won’t go away.”

“I know you probably don’t want to hear it, since we broke up and everything… but you can always talk to me.”

“No, it helps to know. Even if I don’t.” Lance switched off the lamp. Lying back down, he kept his hand connected to Keith’s, laying it in between them. Letting his eyes adjust to the new lighting, his gaze focused on Keith. He made note of how loose strands of white hair fell across his friend’s face. Lance’s other hand came forward to push the locks from Keith’s eyes, revealing purple eyes once more. He pressed his fingers slightly into Keith’s cheek affectionately, letting his lips curl up slightly as he felt his body relax into the atmosphere of the room. 

Keith pushed the side of his face into the hand, letting his eyelids close as he registered the comfort the action gave him. Pulling Lance’s and his hands close to his face, he quickly pecked the other man’s skin.

Lance’s gaze softened, and he completed the action by pressing the skin in question to his own lips and smiling into it. Purple eyes darted away from the action, and if the room had been brighter, Lance would have seen a blush on Keith’s cheeks.

“You can come closer, you know.” He told Keith.

“I… I didn’t want to intrude.”

“And you’re not. I’m inviting you.” Lance pulled Keith slightly closer by their joint hands. Once Keith scooted closer on his own, Lance’s arms came around him and let him settle into a comfortable position. By the end, a white head of hair had found home on his shoulder, while Keith’s legs tangled with his own. His side was pressed up against the front of Keith’s body and the other man’s arm draped across his torso. “Better?”

A soft noise came out of Keith, accompanied by the small movement of his head. 

Long fingers glided through the white hair close to him. “Do you want to talk more in the morning? I’ll make us breakfast, then we can figure out everything from there.”

Another small nod.

“Alright, then sleep for now. You need it after all the crying. It’s going to be alright in the morning buddy, I promise.” Lance assured before closing his own eyes. The heat next to him relaxed his emotions and muscles, letting him find a door into the thing he had found himself chasing earlier that night.

Him and Keith would figure out everything in the morning. Keith would hopefully feel better after some rest, and maybe he would too.


	23. Chapter 23

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Too many times he had let Keith hover over him, checking in, and making sure everything was alright. Now, it was his turn to return the favor.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ahhhh. I'm sorry this took so long. School and work stuff piled up and then I was trying to follow my outline for this chapter and it ended up being around 10k and still going, so I decided to split it up. So, with that said, here's the new chapter. Sorry for the wait!
> 
> Trigger warnings for mentions of eating disorders, and implied domestic abuse.

Blue eyes fought their way open against Lance’s will to continue his blissful time under the sandman’s spell. But, despite his mind’s insistence on rising, the warmth surrounding him did nothing but begin to lull him back where he had just come from. It was nice, relaxing having Keith’s body pressed up against his, legs intertwined and Keith sleeping halfway on top of him. He pressed his nose into the white head of hair resting peacefully on his chest, letting himself sink into the warmth created by Keith and his blue-gray comforter. 

His eyelids slid shut, letting himself fall into the trap. Arms secured around Keith’s figure, the muscles of his body relaxed as he let himself focus in on how nice it was to be so close to someone again, to share a bed with someone who did not have him wanting to crawl away at times. Someone who made him comfortable. That was what he needed all this time, and here he was with that very thing in his life.

Oh, how he had missed it.

An insolent ringing sounded from his nightstand. His mind reminding him of how annoying the device in question could be. He reached over, careful to not wake Keith, and brought the phone into his vision. His eyes focused on the screen in front of him. Call after call, and text after text from Shiro. Raising the phone to an angle that he assumed was more comfortable for Keith, he tapped out a response.

Shiro The Hero  
  
I just woke up. What's going on?  
  


The response was almost instantaneous.

Shiro The Hero  
  
Have you heard from Keith?  
  
He’s right here.  
  
Is he alright?  
  
Yeah, he’s fine. Just upset.  
  
Tell him to call me please.  
  
He’s asleep. I’ll have him call you when he wakes up. Don’t worry. He’s okay. He just needed somewhere to cool off.  
  
Alright…  
  


Well, now he was awake. Not like he could go back to sleep anytime soon. Pressing his nose back into Keith’s hair, he gauged his options and how to start his morning. It was not as if he was particularly hungry. He  _ could _ eat, if he forced himself, but it was not something that he was actually interested in doing. Though, he had promised Keith food last night, and it was not as if he had nothing to do once he got downstairs. Blue still needed to be fed, and if Marissa had not gone out yet, it would not hurt to make her something to eat as well.

Settling on his decision, he cautiously untangled himself from Keith, slipping out from underneath him and letting him rest on the mattress instead. Tugging on a pair of sweatpants, he made his way downstairs. 

The house was quiet, empty if not for the man sleeping upstairs and the cat cuddling up to his legs. As if on autopilot, he prepared Blue’s food and dumped it into the ceramic bowl. Pulling open the fridge, he checked over the available ingredients. In a moment’s decision, he settled on the simplicity of eggs. It was easy and low energy, the only qualifications he could care about at the moment. He popped his sister a quick text to confirm she was still in the house before starting on his new task.

Breaking the shell on the counter, he released the contents into a bowl as his ears caught the sound of feet headed towards the kitchen. A middle schooler dressed in a Captain America t-shirt and tan cargo shorts greeted him as she sat at the opposite side of the kitchen counter he was working at. Her hair seemed to go in all directions as she seemingly refused to acknowledge her notorious bedhead.

“Papi was asking why you were sleeping so late. He called you lazy.”

“Well, papi should remember that I’m a working adult and can do what I want. Besides, I was up late.”

A frown crawled onto her face. “You’re always up late.”

“Yeah,” Lance sighed, “I guess I am.”

“Hey, Lance?”

“Hm?” He grabbed the whisk from the drawer next to the sink. Turning back to face Marissa, he began to beat the eggs.

“You feel sad again.”

He forced a smile onto his face. He had always promised himself that he would let his sister be a child, a normal twelve-year-old, and not drag her into his plethora of issues. It would not be fair of him to involve Marissa into what she luckily did not have to deal with. These were his demons, not hers. “I’m okay. Just had a rough night, that’s all.”

“Was Lotor being mean to you again?”

He froze, stopping his actions as if the words had slapped him. “What?”

“I heard you crying while on the phone with him last time. I assumed he was being mean. You cry when people yell at you.”

“Don’t worry about me and Lotor, alright? Sometimes we just don’t agree.”

“But if he’s making you sad, why do you date him?” She leaned onto the counter, her crossed forearms making a ledge for her chin to rest on.

“Sometimes when you really care about someone, you do weird things. It’ll make sense when you’re older.” He turned on the burner, settling it to a low heat before greasing the pan.

“Is being an adult hard?”

“Sometimes. But being a middle schooler is hard sometimes too, right? It’s just a different type of hard.”

Her eyes fell to the counter. “Yeah. I don’t like it. I used to like myself, and now I just don’t.”

He stopped his movements. Had he heard her correctly? There was no way his sister had just admitted to dealing with self-loathing, right?

“I… why don’t you like yourself? You’re really pretty. I bet everyone likes you.” He reached for a spatula. “Or is it about a boy? Or a girl? You’re allowed to like girls too, you know. Trust me, your big brother here had to figure that one out alone, but once I admitted that to myself, I felt a lot better. That was around the time I met Keith, and then I realized how much I liked him, and well yeah, anyway, you’re allowed to like boys  _ and _ girls.”

“It’s not about a boy or a girl.”

“Then what’s it about? You can tell me if you want.”

“I don’t know. Sometimes, I just feel weird. I’m not sure why. It doesn’t make sense.”

“What do you think is weird about you?”

“I don’t know. I just feel weird sometimes.”

“Well, weird isn’t always bad.” Lance reassured, “If people ever try to make you feel bad for it, don’t listen.”

“Lance?”

“Yeah?”

“What was coming out like?”

“As bi?”

She nodded her head.

“Scary. Honestly, I didn’t know if anyone in our family would accept me. It took me a long time to admit to myself I liked boys too. But, I really, really loved Keith, and I knew if I wanted to be with him, I’d have to tell mami and papi that I liked boys. You remember Keith, right?”

“Yeah. Why doesn’t he come over anymore?”

“It’s more adult stuff.”

“Did Keith make you happy?”

“Very. He’s the reason I told mami and papi I’m bi. If I wanted to be happy, I had to tell them about myself. It felt like hiding otherwise.”

“Does it feel like that for everyone?”

“I don’t know. All my friends came out too. It’s different for everyone I guess.”

“Who else came out?”

“Well, Shiro, Matt, Hunk, Allura, Plaxum, Keith, Pidge, basically everyone I talk to.”

“What did they come out for?”

“Shiro’s demi and pan. Matt’s his boyfriend, and he’s gay. Hunk is pan. Allura is a lesbian. Plaxum is bi like me. Keith is gay. And Pidge is a transgender ace lesbian.”

“Transgender?”

“Mhm. The doctor made a mistake and said Pidge was a boy when she was born, but she’s actually a girl.”

“Does that mean the doctor could have made a mistake and called me a girl when I’m not?” Brown eyes flicked up to look at her older brother.

“If you have boy feelings then yeah, that means you’re a boy. It doesn’t matter what the doctor said when you were born. The doctor said I was a boy when I was born, and I have boy feelings. Pidge just has girl feelings instead.”

Marissa pressed her lips into a thin line, eyes focusing onto the table, as if something had just caught her attention. 

Lance slid the eggs from the pan onto his sister’s plate. He pushed it closer to her, seemingly snapping her out of her thought induced trance. “Eat up.”

“Are you going to eat too?”

“Why are you worrying about that? You’re going to grow up to be like mami.” Lance teased.

She pushed out her bottom lip in a pout, “You’re always grouchy when you don’t eat. And sleepy.”

“I’m always sleepy.”

“Yeah, but you’re  _ more _ sleepy.”

“Fine, fine. Here, look.” He held up the second plate, bare of any accessories but the eggs themselves. “See, I have food. I’m just going upstairs to eat it.”

“You always eat in your room.”

“Yeah, so?”

“It’s not fair. I don’t get to do that.”

“It’s because I’m an adult.”

“Well, one day I’ll be an adult too.”

“And then you can eat in your room. I’m going to head back upstairs, okay? Need anything else?”

She shook her head.

Lance tossed a knife and fork onto the plate to accompany the food he had created for Keith and left the room with a pat to his little sibling’s head. Trekking the two flights of stairs, he pushed open the door to his own room, closing it behind him and placing the ceramic onto the nightstand.

Keith had not moved, still tucked in under the covers where Lance had left him. Purple eyes remained shut, facial muscles relaxed. It was as if Keith had not even registered he was no longer being held in his sleep, that he was so far gone under the sandman’s spell nothing could wake him.

Lance was a little jealous. Too many sleepless nights had plagued him. Sometimes it seemed as if being out cold for so many hours would have been a blessing. Logically, he knew for Keith it was a plague he wished he could escape. 

Guilt washed over him. He should not have been wishing something so horrible on himself, yet, it felt as if the world gave him no other choice.

Lance sat himself on the bed, close to the other man in question. Running his hand through Keith’s white hair gently, he spoke softly as he rocked the body next to his own, “Good morning, sleepyhead.”

Purple eyes opened, searching the room tired and unfocused before closing once more. The expression on Keith’s face told a different story this time around, one much more sullen. 

“I know buddy, but I made you some food. Can you at least eat it? I’ll let you go back to bed if you do.” He finger combed Keith’s hair as he laid out the offer. When Keith continued without an answer, Lance began to add to his limited, this time only proposition, “We can cuddle?”

Keith’s arms reached out, wrapping around Lance’s free hand, pulling the appendage and everything connected to it closer. 

Lance took his cue, slipping back under the covers. Sliding in behind him, he propped Keith’s back up against his chest, holding his friend close by his waist. The bottom of his chin rested on Keith’s shoulder as he peeked ahead of him, “Better? Look, I know how hard it gets buddy, but you need to keep getting up. It won’t change otherwise.”

“What’s the point?” Keith replied dejectedly, “We all die anyway.”

“Nuh uh, nope, not allowed to talk like that. If I said that, you’d be fretting over me, so now I get to fret over you. Eat up, and then you can sleep.”

Keith resigned, letting his body fall lax against Lance’s. Without another word, he silently lifted the fork to his mouth and consumed the food Lance had made for him. 

Lance kept his eyes on Keith’s movements, ensuring that the food made it into Keith’s mouth. Realistically, it was not Keith that he had to worry about when it came to not properly feeding himself, but if he knew anything about his own depression, the decrease in appetite was anything but helpful when he felt unmotivated as it was. His arms came closer together, holding Keith closer to him. One hand slid further down Keith’s hip, fiddling with the waistband of the sweatpants Keith was borrowing from him before pressing his fingers between the fabric and the skin. Long fingers rubbed gentle circles into the new area, his thumb occasionally catching over Keith’s hipbone. He turned his face in, tucking in his chin and pressing his nose into the crook of Keith’s neck. The contact was nice, familiar, as if he was going back to something safe but long forgotten.

Though, in all fairness, that was exactly what he was doing. He was bringing himself back to a time when everything was still okay, before he messed up his life and had begun the long string of events that slowly chipped away at his mental health. Yet maybe, just maybe, if he kept himself close to Keith like this for a little bit longer, he could pretend that he did not want to destroy himself and point out his neverending flaws.

He let his hand rest, holding Keith’s hip in his loose grasp. But, he wanted closer. It was as if he was unable to get to the distance he wanted, a want that was impossible to achieve. And Lance knew it. He could never be with Keith the same way he had once been. That time had gone and passed, and there was nothing he could do to bring it back.

No. He should not even think like that. He had a future to build with his current boyfriend. And Keith was not that. Him and Keith could be close friends for the rest of their lives, but he would not be in boyfriend territory again, to think of him in such a way would not be fair to Lotor. It did not matter if Lotor had his moments where Lance wanted to run. Lance still knew what it was like to find out your significant other had feelings for someone else, and it was not a feeling he wanted to wish on anyone else in his life.

“Hey Lance.” Keith spoke softly, just loud enough to get his friend’s attention.

“Hm?” He removed his face slightly from Keith’s neck, “Yeah?” 

“I finished.” Keith moved the plate into Lance’s vision. “Where do you want it?”

“The nightstand is fine.” He placed his face back where it had previously made its home.

“Is it okay if I sleep now?”

“Yeah,” He brushed his fingers around Keith’s hip bone again. “But I was hoping that we could go out for a bit first.”

“Lance that’s sweet, but I’m really not up for it right now.”

He lifted his head away from Keith’s skin and peaked over to get a glimpse of Keith’s face. Purple eyes reflected nothing but a deep exhaustion, the same type Lance knew all too well.

Keith shifted in Lance’s arms, not removing them from his body, but making himself a more comfortable home in them.

A hand came up to brush his fingers through Keith’s hair. Removing his white bangs from his face, his eyes softened as he spoke, “I was just thinking we could go out and buy you some hair dye and anything else you might need after last night. Just a quick trip to the drug store, okay?”

“Then we’ll come back, and I can sleep?” Keith asked, looking back up at him.

“Yeah. Besides, when you’re depressed it’s good to get out of the house. Remember all the times you made me go outside when I didn’t want to? It’s the same thing. You deserve to feel good too, not just me.”

“Fine.”

A smile crept up onto his face. “I’ll go grab your clothes from the drier, alright? Just hang tight. And if you fall back asleep, I’m waking you up. Oh! And Shiro wanted you to call him.”

A miserable look crossed Keith’s face. “Do I have to?”

“If you don’t want him hunting you down, then yeah. I’ll be right back.” He pressed his lips to Keith’s temple briefly before he went to slip out from behind him. His muscles broke on him as the action suddenly sunk in. Nothing would move. Had he really just done  _ that _ ? Had he really just given Keith a kiss? Albeit not on the lips, but still something that was most likely a hundred times more intimate that Keith was probably even comfortable with. He had fucked up. Keith would probably just up and march out of his house without ever speaking to him again. It was over, and it was all thanks to his dumb impulses that he never thought through. How could he have been so stupid to act like that. Words! He had to say something! The silence was only making it ten million times worse.

“I… fuck, Keith, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean. I just, when I’m taking care of people sometimes I just get affectionate and, shit, I didn’t mean—”

“Lance.”

“I—”

“Lance, look at me.”

He shut his mouth, gaze locking onto Keith as he waited for the other man’s inevitable rejection.

“It’s okay. If you made me uncomfortable, I wouldn’t of stayed in your bed with you. Besides, it was…” Keith’s eyes shifted to the sheets, “Nice.”

“Are you sure?” He pulled his bottom lip between his teeth.

“I don’t have a reason to lie to you.” 

He stared at Keith for a moment longer, then let his gaze focus on Keith’s lips. Had Keith’s lips always looked that appealing? If Keith was okay with him kissing his head, would he be okay with him actually kissing him? It was not that far removed from the initial action. In fact, it would just take another moment like the one before to have such a thing become reality.

“Um, Lance, can you go get my binder please?” Keith’s voice tore him out of his thoughts.

He straightened up, nodding to Keith quickly before moving to exit the room. Traveling down the stairs and into the basement, he grabbed the nude colored binder from the top of the drier where he had laid it last night to air dry. He checked the status of the clothes within the machine before pulling the door towards him and scooping up the hoodie, shirt, and pants Keith had worn to his house hours before. Turning the corner by the top of the staircase, blue eyes caught the recycling bin, the contents covered by the new bottles from his time talking with Keith. Had he really drank  _ that _ much? To be fair, it was only a few bottles of beer, yet, it left him with a reminder of how numbing the liquid could get. It was not the first time he had turned to alcohol when he was feeling as if the world was against him, and he was not the only one in his life who had done it either. 

Maybe feeling a sense of numbness was better than the crippling sadness. If a few drinks of something stronger would numb him further, he might as well take it. It was not as if anything was really going to matter afterwards. If he was going to start a new habit, well, then he could fall into the same pit Lotor had been digging lately. Maybe he would finally have something in common with the other man. Or, if not, it would at least cushion him from the emotional blows that were being dealt whenever he spent extended time alone with his now boyfriend. 

Moving back up the stairs, he made it to his room. Knocking once, he waited for a response. When Keith gave him a noise indicating his presence, he entered.

“So, I have your binder and clothes from last night. If you want something else, I can give you some of mine too.” Lance informed, placing the pieces of fabric onto the messed sheets.

“Thanks.” Keith replied as he stripped himself of the shirt Lance had lent him and pulled on the compression fabric, “I’m okay with the hoodie though.”

“Alright. Just thought I’d offer.” He picked up the empty plate that had once held Keith’s breakfast. “Do you want me to leave while you get dressed?”

“I don’t care. Do whatever.”

“I’ll go put the plate away then.” Lance turned towards the door, leaving Keith to get ready for his day in peace. Dumping the plate in the sink and squirting dish soap onto a sponge, he attempted to hush the sounds of his empty stomach. He  _ could _ make himself a meal, but, at this point it was futile. If anything, he could fill up on a few drinks later.

Yeah, he would do that.

Rinsing his hands of the soap suds, he wiped them on the available rag before returning to his room. Pushing the door open, he shut it behind him and ascended the stairs to his room. Stepping into sight, he was met with Keith dressed in the same maroon sweatshirt from the night before, paired with jeans and his cell phone held close to his ear.

“I said I’m fine Shiro. Yeah, yeah, whatever. You’re the one who was getting mad at me anyway—Excuse me? No. I’m fucking sorry that I had a shitty time in Colorado, but it’s not like anyone really wanted to know what I had been doing for five years anyway. No! Fuck you! You think I want to go back after you said that? Maybe I’ll put up with getting spoken down to by my ex, but I’m not going to start letting everyone else do that too! No. Call me back when you’re not being an ass Takashi.” Keith removed the phone from the side of his head and pressed his thumb into the end call button on the screen. He tossed the object into the comforter angrily.

“Woah, woah. Is everything okay?”

“Just because I made a bad choice doesn’t mean I can’t be fucking trusted to make my own decisions. Sorry I dated a goddamn asshole. If I knew that when we met, I wouldn’t have moved in with him. I’m not going to sit here and get blamed for everything he fucking did to me!” Keith’s voice broke as the last sentence left his lips. The second one came out a bit softer, weaker, as if he was trying to convince himself of his own words, “It wasn’t my fault…”

“Hey, hey, deep breath, alright?” Lance lifted his hands in front of his body, palms facing away from him as he instructed Keith.

“What’s the point? Everyone thinks everything bad that happens to me is my fault.”

“Yeah, well, unfortunately it’s a shitty thing people like to do. Most people don’t understand how toxic relationships work.” Lance continued, “And trust me, I know they’re a lot more complicated than one unacceptable thing happens and you leave.”

“How was I supposed to leave? I had no money, and all my family was either in New York or Texas. I was all the way out in Colorado by myself, and he knew it.”

“Look, there’s no need to explain your actions to me Keith. If anyone knows what it’s like, I do.”

Keith inhaled long and shaky, as if he was taking Lance’s advice from earlier, but could not hold himself together in the way he had hoped.

He sat next to Keith, taking one of the other man’s hands into his own. Threading their fingers together, he gave Keith’s hand a light squeeze. “Do you want to talk about it?”

Keith quickly shook his head. “I really don’t like talking about him.”

“Well, it’s not your fault. Whatever happened.” 

“He’s telling me about how he’s all worried about me, because I apparently make a ton of horrible decisions, listing Colorado as one of them. I didn’t know my ex would turn out to be an asshole. How was I supposed to know how he was going to treat me? And I don’t know how much worse I’m supposed to feel about how I acted recently, because I hate myself so fucking much for it. He just needs to trust me that I know what I’m doing. I’m twenty-three, and I’ve made it this far. I should be fine.” Purple eyes focused on the rug in front of them as he spoke.

“Do you want me to talk to Shiro for you? He might be more inclined to listen to me if he’s having anxiety about your well-being. I can let him know you’re with me, and that you’re okay.”

“I appreciate it Lance, but I want him to listen to  _ me _ . I know he’s all worried because of what happened with Ryou and then his parents. But, I know what I’m doing right now. I just wish he’d trust me for once instead of assuming that I’m going to just do something dumb again. I really do want to get it together. It’s just difficult, and he’s not making me any more inclined to do it.”

“How about we buy some liquor or something while we’re out? We can just loosen up for the night and forget about everything else.”

Keith’s gazed moved, concern flickering in his eyes as he looked at Lance. When blue eyes caught purple ones, it quickly retreated back to the floor. “I don’t know if I’ll drink. But I could go for a cigarette.”

Lance rose to his feet, offering Keith his hand to help the other man join him in his predicted journey. When Keith accepted the assistance, he moved his arm away only to have it caught by Keith, keeping his hand within a handhold connecting them together. Popping a quick text to Marissa that he was leaving the house, he led Keith to his car. He turned on the engine and exited the driveway. Once they had made their way onto the main road, Keith reached out again, taking Lance’s hand and lacing their fingers together. 

He glanced over to his right, sight met with Keith’s gaze lost out the window. Not a word was said, but it was no less comfortable. In all honesty, it was nice to just be able to exist with someone again. While maybe a few cuddles would be nice, the hand hold was sufficient for his need for human contact. 

He pulled into the parking lot by the local drug store before he spoke, “You good buddy?”

“Yeah. It’s just been a long couple days. Sorry.”

“Don’t apologize. We’re friends. This is what we do for each other. I know you’d do the same for me.”

Keith’s gaze stuck to the carpeted floor of the car, and he pulled his bottom lip between his teeth before he spoke again, “Hey, Lance?”

“Yeah?”

Keith pressed his lips to the side of Lance’s face. “Thanks.” He quickly exited the car.

Long fingers rose, the tips of them brushed over the spot in question. He could feel the blood rush to his face as he bit his bottom lip and let what was left curl into a smile. Had Keith just kissed his cheek? There was no denying it. He had. A giddy feeling bubbled up in side of him, forcing him to acknowledge the moment. Did Keith want to push things further than they had been? Get closer in more ways than one?

No. No. No. He was just reading into things. There was no way Keith saw him as anything other than a friend. That was the label they had for their connection to one another, and that was where it was going to stay. Besides, Lance had Lotor. There was no reason he should be worrying about Keith and what he felt. Anything past sex he would need to reject.

No. Why was he even thinking that? Keith probably did not want that from him. And it was not like he was going to go seeking that from Keith either. There was no reason to even think of Keith in such a way anymore. That time in their life was over, and he had to accept it. No ifs, ands, or buts. And it was not as if he was actually that attracted to Keith anymore. No. He was just being nostalgic. That was all. 

A knock sounded on the glass to his left. Keith stood, free hand in his hoodie pocket, peering through the glass.

Fuck. Keith was waiting for him.

He took his keys from the ignition and exited the vehicle. Locking it with the press of a button, he followed Keith inside the building, his right hand once again seized by Keith’s own. Wandering through the aisles, he watched Keith as he scanned the different options for hair dye that the store offered.

“Why are there so many? I just want black. Why can’t there be one option? There’s like five different types of black!”

“Here,” Lance took a box into his left hand and handed it to Keith. “I trust this brand the most.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yeah. It’s the one Sofia used when she went blonde. Except, well, this one’s black. It worked pretty well.”

“I’ll trust you.”

“Anything else you need from here?”

“No. I just want some cigarettes from the liquor store.” Keith replied, stepping towards the cashier.

“Hey Lance! What’s up?” The cashier greeted. Her blonde hair was tied back into a tight ponytail, and she adorned the store uniform. She tucked her loose bangs behind her ear before scanning Keith’s hair dye.

“Oh, nothing really. Just dying my friend’s hair tonight. Normal stuff. You?”

“Same here. I was hoping I’d get a chance to stop by your family's restaurant tonight though. Are you working?” She told Keith the price before taking his money and working the register.

“Nope. I have tonight and tomorrow off. But feel free to come visit me any time I’m there beautiful. I always enjoy the company of a pretty lady.” 

Her hand moved in front of her mouth as she let out a small giggle at Lance’s words, “I’ll be sure to stop by sometime this week then. Couldn’t let a cute guy be all alone now.” She bagged Keith’s purchase as she spoke.

“I’ll be waiting.” Lance assured, waving to her as he exited with Keith.

“Do you know her?” The words were stiff and uncomfortable.

“Yeah. I know almost everyone. Kinda happens when you live in bumblefuck for so long and your family owns the only restaurant worth going to for miles.” Lance shrugged.

“Okay.” The response was short and almost as if Keith was removing himself from the conversation he had started.

Lance frowned. “Are you okay?”

“I’m fine. I’m just irritable. I want my cigarettes.”

“Then just say so. The liquor store is down the street. We can walk.” He motioned to guide Keith in the right direction, unintentionally syncing his footsteps with his friend’s as they moved. He let eyes roam to Keith, knowing that there must have been just a little bit more to his attitude than Keith was willing to admit.  



	24. Chapter 24

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Maybe taking reference from how some of the people in his life had dealt with their problems was not the best idea. But, now here he was, drinking and babbling away to Keith about everything that had ever gone wrong in his life.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Casually drops another chapter here.
> 
> Trigger warnings for self harm, suicidal thoughts, and mentions of abuse and eating disorders.

A bell clanged as the store door opened, signaling their entrance. Almost immediately, Keith parted from Lance’s side, making a straight path to the counter to speak with the cashier. His own eyes wandered throughout the different choices displayed throughout the store. The different sizes and types of liquid would have probably overwhelmed him a few years ago when he had first been given what he had affectionately named his drinking permit, or in more well known terms, his fake ID. But now that he had his actual legal driver’s license, it was as if there was nothing to fear. He knew what would give him a good time out with friends and what would get him straight to a wasted mess. Luckily, he knew what his goals for the night were, especially if Keith was going to suddenly be giving him an attitude about the people he spoke with around town.

By the time he had picked out his poison for the night, Keith had already finished with his purchase and exited the store with a ring of the same bell from earlier. If Keith felt the need to keep away from him suddenly after some meaningless flirting with someone he knew, then fine. He did not even need to spend time with him, and it did nothing but make him want to get as drunk as possible as soon as possible anyway. 

Besides, everyone seemed to eventually have issues with him in the end.

Lance placed his choices on the counter and showed the cashier his license before paying. Waving him off, he met Keith outside, the familiar smell of cigarette smoke filling his nose once he exited the building. 

When had that become familiar?

“Is the cigarette helping?”

Keith took a drag from the cigarette and exhaled before answering, “I don’t know. I guess?”

Lance breathed out a sigh and leaned against the wall behind him. He pulled out his phone, letting Keith have his moment to feed his addiction. If he could keep that smell out of his car, he would. Reading through his notifications, he replied to a few texts from Lotor before answering Shiro on Keith’s whereabouts and where he would be until further notice.

Keith turned into himself, shielding his arms from Lance, as if he was attempting to keep something out of his friend’s view. There was a glimpse of Keith’s exposed flesh on his arm before he inhaled through his teeth as he winced.

“Keith!”

“What?” Keith snapped back defensively.

“What do you mean ‘what’? You’re hurting yourself!” His free arm grabbed onto Keith’s closer arm and pulled it towards him.

“What does it matter?! It’s not as if you’re a stranger to it. You have nothing on me.”

“I’m allowed to care about you!”

“Well, I don’t care about myself, so it’s wasted energy.”

“I don’t get it, Keith. Do you not want any help?”

“Everyone thinks I just fucked myself over anyway.”

“Keith. Look at me.”

Purple eyes met blue ones. His body kept away from Lance, but he let his head turn into him.

“I don’t think it’s your fault. I never did.”

Keith said nothing, just moved his head back and tucked it into himself.

Lance bit his bottom lip. “Did… did I do something?” Maybe he really had messed up. He could have hurt Keith during their time out together and just never realized it. What type of friend was he anyway? He was not worth hanging out with, and Keith pitied him enough to do it anyway. All he ever did was spread misery, but at least Keith had wanted to overlook that. Maybe this was just the breaking point? Had he been creepy when talking to the cashier at the drugstore? Had he made Keith uncomfortable too? Maybe Keith had known that Lance was making the girl uncomfortable, and he just had not realized himself? What if that was why Keith sounded so off-put with him after they had left? Maybe he really had just messed everything up and made a horrible reputation for himself. Why did he ever even start a conversation with the cashier? He should have just gotten his goods and left. There was no point in talking to her. He probably overshared with her like people did often when talking to staff. He was probably just considered annoying by her, and there was no point in ever even going back to that store. She probably hated him and so did Keith after seeing it. His chest got tighter as the thoughts continued. Why had he even opened his mouth at all? There was no reason to ever even talk besides wishing her a good day. Maybe Keith had really just hated him this whole time still. He probably just felt too horrible to tell Lance to fuck off and leave him be. He should just never talk again. There was no point. It just made people not like him. Everything he ever said was just embarrassing anyway. 

Keith’s concerned voice entered the array of thoughts, “Lance?” 

He dug his teeth further into his bottom lip, letting his breaths come out faster and faster with every exhale. He was just making a fool of himself to everyone, including Keith. There was no reason his friends should ever want him around by choice. They were just much better people than him.

A hand took Lance’s, giving it a comforting squeeze. “Are you okay? You’re shaking.”

“I—” He swallowed his words involuntarily before he managed to force them out, “I’m fine.”

A frown crawled onto Keith’s face, his gaze shifted down before he spoke, “How about I drive us home?”

“I said, said I’m fine.” 

Keith squeezed his hand once more. “I know. I just want to drive us instead. Is that okay?”

“I guess…”

Gently, Keith guided him back to the car. Had it really been this long of a walk? It was as if it was difficult to make it down the block. He had done this many times before. Why was it suddenly impossible now?

Keith took the keys from him, waiting for Lance to get into the passenger seat before he entered the car himself. Starting the car, he checked to make sure Lance had in fact put on a seat belt. Not bothering to put on his own, he pulled the car out of the parking lot and into the street. His hand kept itself intertwined with Lance’s as he steered them home in the silence of nothing but their breathing, as if he was silently checking to make sure Lance was not going into a further panic by the pace of his breaths.

Pulling into the driveway, Keith shut the car off, turning towards Lance to look him over. Purple eyes roamed over Lance and the scenario, gauging what to do next.

Keith pulled him close, arms securing around him. A few hushed apologies made it into Lance’s ears before it became evident that this may have no longer been one-hundred percent about him anymore.

They stayed there in silence. No radio, no conversation, just the occasional harsh breath or two as they found a stability in each other. If they could not do it alone, then maybe they could build a new ground to stand on together. Everyone had to start somewhere right?

Keith pulled away, pressing the base of his palm into his right eye and wiping at it.

“Are you crying?”

“No.”

“Keith…”

“Are you okay? You’re the one who was upset.”

“Yeah. I said I was fine. I just… anxiety, that’s all.”

“Should we go inside?”

“Yeah…” Lance’s eyes met the bottle in his hand. Something told him it was not going to last long once he had gotten through the door to his house if no one was home but Keith and him.

Keith stepped out onto the driveway, waiting for Lance to follow in his example. Once Lance had joined him, Keith brought their hands together again, accompanying him into the house. A short announcement of Lance’s arrival home that was met with nothing but silence signaled to the duo that they were in fact alone for the time being. Lance stepped toward the kitchen, Keith following close behind.

“You can sit in the living room. I’ll be there in a second. Make yourself comfy.”

“What if I want to stay here?” Keith said, a twinge of nervousness in his voice, as if he felt it was something he was not allowed to say.

Lance gave him a short shrug. “Then stay. Do you want to drink too? Or are you good?” “I’m good. Do you have water?”

“Yeah, it’s in the fridge.” Lance replied, waving his hand to signal to the object in question. Once he heard Keith’s footsteps moving about the room, he went back to searching for the shot glass he knew was stored behind the nicer glassware. Upon its discovery, he retrieved it and exited the room.

Lance plopped himself down onto the couch unceremoniously. He put the liquor bottle and shot glass on the coffee table and let Keith do the same with the water bottle he had gotten.

“If you want some you can always just steal a shot from my glass, just so you know.” Lance said before going to the task of opening the bottle he had just bought. Once his task had been achieved, he poured the clear liquid into the shot glass and threw it back into his mouth. Somehow, the burn of it just seemed welcome at this point.

“Lance, it’s barely the evening.”

“What? It’s not like I do this often anymore. Besides, if Shiro and Lotor are allowed to drink about their problems, then why can’t I?”

“They shouldn’t be. And it doesn’t help to know you were drinking all last night too.” Keith pointed out, purple eyes watching Lance’s movements carefully.

“It was just a few beers, Keith. I’m not doing anything wrong.”

“My dad always used to say he was only going to have a few, but it was never actually a few. It’s only going to increase if you’re doing this to deal with your problems.”

“Yeah, and I’m not your dad. I can control my drinking.” Lance replied as he poured himself another shot.

“I don’t want to see that happen to you.”

“It won’t! And I don’t see you lecturing Shiro, an actual problem drinker, about his drinking!” Lance snapped before downing the contents of his glass. He hit the object back onto the table with an evident clunk.

Keith retracted the hand he had resting on Lance’s arm. “I… I do actually… and I know he started drinking again because of me. Just like how you started having a panic attack, because I was being an ass earlier. I know I keep fucking up, you don’t have to tell me.” He pulled his right knee closer to his torso, letting his foot rest on the couch. “If you want, I can leave.”

“What? No. Don’t go.” The words came out before his brain could process them, “I want you here.”

Keith’s body language relaxed a bit at the declaration.

Lance relaxed back into the couch and let it surround him. “I do, I do. You’re not a fuck up at all! You’re really sweet, and you just keep running into assholes all the time and deserve so much better. Fuck. It makes me angry that you keep thinking you’re hurting everyone, because you make me really happy to be around.” 

A smile crept up onto Keith’s face, the beginning of a new flush making a home on his cheeks. Leaning closer to Lance, he put his hands on his friend’s arm once more. “Heh, do I now?”

“Yep. Fuck, you make me way happier than you should.” Lance sat up to pour himself another shot. 

“Then what makes you so upset you feel like you need to drink over it?” Keith asked, “I just want to hear about it.”

Lance paused for a moment, frozen in his movements and words. Catching himself, he spoke, “I’m not drunk enough for that.”

“So the goal’s to get drunk tonight then?”

“Yeah.” His eyes moved away from Keith before downing the new shot. 

“Will you tell me when you’re drunk?” 

“Hmm, knowing me? Probably.”

“Can I turn on the TV?” 

“Go for it buddy.” 

Keith reached over for the remote, turning on the device to the first channel that appeared before he tossed the object to his side. He leaned into Lance’s side. “When I was in Colorado, I used to think about running off to live in the woods. I guess I did run away, from New York, but I guess the ideal was having a small house out in the middle of the woods where it was quiet. My ex always told me we could get that at some point, but it never happened. Sometimes I just really want to do that myself. Would you hate me if I got a house in the middle of bumblefuck further upstate?”

“We already live in bumblefuck, Keith.” Lance rested his head atop of Keith’s own.

“Yeah, but this is a  _ town _ in bumblefuck. I want to live in the woods of bumblefuck.”

“Do you really want to leave that badly?” The words left with a pain in his chest. Why did it matter that much if Keith decided he wanted to leave town?

“You have to have something that you really wanted, even if you didn’t get it. Tell me about it.”

“A family.” Was he really going to tell Keith about this? “I always really wanted a family. I wanted to raise kids with someone I loved and have a happy family. But I’m not allowed to be happy, ever, so what’s the point in hoping for that? Lotor’s the best I’m getting, so I should just settle for him. But I want more, and it fucking sucks.” 

Apparently, he was. 

“Why don’t you think you can have it? It’s not really that far out there of a dream. A lot of people want kids and families.” 

“Because the world wants me to be miserable.” 

“A lot of people with mental illness can still be parents. And you don’t need to stay with Lotor if he’s not making you happy.”

“Happy?” Lance let out a sarcastic laugh, “Since when has he ever made me  _ happy _ ? More like moderately content, and maybe I get some good sex out of it.”

“Then leave him.”

“He’ll probably flip his shit again if I try. Guy’s got some major issues. It’s easier to just stay with him and deal with it. He acts like he doesn’t care but then he’s just completely fucked up and freaks the hell out whenever he realizes he can’t control you. Maybe that’s why he used to hit me whenever I did something he didn’t like…”

“Lance!” Keith sat up. “He shouldn’t hit you  _ ever _ !”

Lance laid his head back onto the couch cushions. “Yeah, yeah, those are rules for people who can get dates and aren’t complete idiots. I was the one who made him act like that anyway. I knew he’d get pissed off, and I did it anyway.”

“No! If I didn’t deserve it, then you didn’t either! You can’t say it’s not my fault but for you it was!”

“Nope. You weren’t there, and I’m saying it’s my fault. So, it is.” 

“You weren’t there for my last relationship either. So, how do you know it wasn't my fault?”

“Because you’re a good guy and deserve better. I just need to learn to settle, and I’ll be happy.”

“Is that really what you think?” Keith’s voice came out soft, careful to not aggravate the conversation.

“Yeah. It’s the truth.”

Keith’s hands touched the exposed skin on Lance’s forearms. Gently moving his contact, he brushed up and down the multitude of scars, tracing the outline of the ones that raised from the skin, “Lance, I want to know what the fuck happened to you. All of it. I know you said you’d tell me when you were ready, but it hurts to know you think of yourself like this. I want to make it better, but I don’t know how.”

“Fuck, where do I even start?” He took the bottle, promptly ignoring the available shot glass and brought it to his lips. “I guess, after we broke up I started going downhill? I don’t know.” He sighed and pushed his hair back. “I went downhill for a while, then I got better, but then I fucked myself up by dating Lotor? Okay, I think it was Lotor? Yeah, Lotor. Or maybe the kid? That one made me want to kill myself too. Oh fuck, if Plax would’ve let me, I would’ve been so dead and gone right now.” Lance let out a small laugh, slurring his words together in his explanation.

“Lance! That’s not funny!” Keith snapped. 

“No. Probably not. But they say to use humor to keep yourself going, right? Might as well try, huh?” He brought the bottle to his lips once more before throwing his head back again. “Fuck.”

“Just… start with our break up.” Keith leaned back into him.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck. Okay, break up, break up… oh, okay so I was pretty fucked up for a while. I expected us to get married, live happily ever after, I don’t know, some dumb shit like that. All my ideas have been dumb anyway so doesn’t matter.” He leaned back further into the couch, head tilting upwards so he could stare at the ceiling. 

“Did that affect you that badly?”

“I think, I think, yeah. I started hooking up with a lot of people, because I was sad and thought if, if I had someone pay attention to me like that for a while I’d be happy. But it just made me feel good while I got laid. Then I was just fucking sad again.”

“Did you ever like someone again?” Keith’s fingers began to play with Lance’s own.

“Yeah, yeah, when I got to college, I met this girl, and she was pretty cool, I guess. I liked her and shit, and I think she liked me? I don’t know, I don’t know how anyone could really like me that much though, so it was probably hopeful thinking.” It was as if he had physically deflated, holding himself up with his free hand.

“Why didn’t you ask her out?”

“I was still really hung up on you and just kinda turned down a relationship.”

“What about Lotor? How did he happen then?”

“Lotor… Lotor… oh, I went to a party, some guy gave me a drink, I met Lotor, and we ended up fucking. He really had no experience with guys I think, because I, I was fucking sore as all hell after it. He was pretty great in the beginning. He bought me nice things and, and took me out a lot. I was happy and stuff.”

“Well, what happened?”

“He became an ass, and I got an eating disorder. It only got worse until I left him. But all my family loves him and shit so maybe that was wrong.”

“Lance it wasn’t wrong. If you’re unhappy, you’re allowed to leave a relationship.”

“I don’t know. When I was dating him, I used to hurt myself a lot, and I didn’t want to eat and then self harmed by throwing up when we got into an argument about my cuts.”

“And you thought that was okay?”

“I don’t think he’s a bad person, but fuck, his issues take over our entire relationship still. It was always him wanting me to do what he asked. Otherwise, he freaked out and, and did whatever he felt like to make you listen, because he’s a goddamn control freak.”

“Then what made you break up with him?”

“I went to a hospital for a while, because I’m fucked up, and he cheated on me with your sister, and I still took him back, because I’m dumb. The whole relationship was just a shitshow. Wait, fuck, that’s my relationship now too. Ugh.” He leaned on Keith as he continued his answer, slurring and tripping over his words, “Why am I like this?”

Keith’s fingers combed through Lance’s hair. “I don’t think a bad relationship should define you.”

Lance groaned into Keith’s shoulder, burying his face into it. “But I’m dumb and keep going back to him.”

“Sometimes, familiar is easier to be with.” Keith rubbed his hand up and down the small of Lance’s back. “I ran away from familiar, because it was scaring me. You went back, because trying new things was scaring you.”

“You’re familiar.” Lance reminded, pressing his face into Keith’s neck and clumsily placing the bottle on the floor, somehow managing to put it down upright. 

“Even after five years?” 

“Mhm.” Lance nodded into the crook of Keith’s neck before laying his weight on top of him. Splaying the both of them out on the brown couch cushions, he moved his right hand under Keith’s shirt, stroking the skin from the waist of his pants to the beginning of his half binder. “You’re so nice, and I missed you a lot. You deserve a nice boyfriend who’s nice to you and wants you to be happy.”

Keith pressed his nose into the brown locks by his face. “And so do you.”

“I’m gonna find you a nice, nice, nice guy, and he’s gonna be nice and take good care of you. I promise. Trust me, he’s gonna be fucking awesome, and you’re gonna be happy.”

“I’m sure you will.”

“You fucking bet.” Lance reached over for the bottle once more, missing a few times before actually managing to secure a grip on it. Sitting up, he took another messy sip. Letting the effects of the liquid hit him. “Oh fuck, I’m fucking drunk as fuck.”

“Are you done for now?”

“Yeah, yeah.”

Keith reached over, taking the bottle from Lance and putting it onto the coffee table where it had sat previously. Settling back into their previous position, he pulled Lance back down with him. Laying flush against him, only thin layers of fabric separating them from each other, Keith took Lance’s face into his hands, gently forcing the other man’s gaze onto his own. He let out a small laugh, “You’re so far gone.”

“I’m not  _ that _ drunk.” Lance protested, slurring his words.

“You literally just said you were.”

“Nuh uh.” Lance said with a shake of his head, then rested his forehead onto Keith’s shoulder.

“Aww, did that hurt?” Keith asked with a small tone of humor to his voice.

Lance nodded into Keith’s shoulder, letting out a small groan.

Keith’s fingers brushed through Lance’s hair, “Take it easy there, sharpshooter.”

“You remember!” Lance exclaimed, nuzzling into Keith’s cheek.

A laugh left Keith’s mouth, “Well, you shot me right through the heart in high school, didn’t you?”

Lance pressed his face further into Keith’s cheek, placing a kiss into it with a smile. “I wanna do it again. Get you a nice boyfriend.”

“Do you have a list of potential suitors?” 

“Mhm.” Lance assured, moving his nuzzling into Keith’s neck.

“Am I allowed to know any of them?” Keith asked, moving his free hand to work its way underneath Lance’s shirt. Once it had made its way to its destined spot, he ran his fingers up and down the area, enjoying the warmth of another person with him.

“Nope. It’s a secret.” He pressed his right index finger clumsily to his lips.

“How long is it going to be a secret for?”

“I donno.” Lane moved his body slightly to bring his gaze back to Keith’s eyes. His hand went to the side of Keith’s head, missing the cushion and emphasizing his missing coordination. In one clumsy move, the two toppled to the floor, Lance’s weight dragging Keith along as he hit his back on the floor with a rather loud thud.

Keith quickly sat up, one thigh on each side of Lance’s hips, “Are you okay?”

He quickly nodded. “Mhm.”

Keith leaned in, moving to thread his hands back into the brown strands of hair on Lance’s head. “You’re quite something. I hope you know that.”

Lance threw his arms around Keith’s neck. “You love me.” 

Keith’s lips curled upwards, purple eyes softening as he spoke, “If you only knew.” He pressed his cheek to Lance’s briefly.

Lance let his head lie back, Keith’s face close to his. His hands made their way to his friend’s hips, sliding them above his pants and moving onto the bare skin beneath Keith’s shirt. Rubbing up and down gently, he let himself live in the moment. Since when had he wanted to touch Keith so badly? He just wanted to touch every inch of bare skin that Keith would let him, pull him close and put his mouth on those same places. He wanted to worship him and have him lewdly cry out when he did just the right thing. Could he take Keith to bed with him? Would Keith even let him get that intimate with him? 

Blue eyes made it over Keith’s face. Plump lips moved as Keith spoke to him, something that he was not in tune enough with the world to process at the moment. All he could focus on were how Keith’s hands touched his hair and face. His mind screamed for it, more, more, more. He wanted Keith’s hands and body to claim him. 

It was as Keith’s words did not exist. All his mind could do was stare at Keith’s face. The way Keith’s white hair fell beside his head as he looked down at him. The soft look in his purple eyes, and how that was the most perfect smile he had seen on Keith in years. Granted, he had not seen Keith in years, but it did not make the statement any less true. 

Then, Keith’s forehead was pressed into his, their noses the only thing keeping them apart. Could he kiss Keith? His body was begging him to press just a little bit closer, to seal the contact between them, and spend the rest of the night indulging in pleasure. Yet, what was left of his properly thinking brain was ready to press his lips onto Keith’s and call that the accomplishment for the night. Would it be just like old times? Would bringing Keith back into his life like this make him as happy as he had been five years ago? 

He let his fingers dip slightly below the waist of Keith’s pants, testing the boundaries of the situation. Splaying them along the warm skin of his friend’s hips, he found himself settling his whole palm underneath the denim. He let his hands pull Keith’s body closer to him, barely catching the expression on the other man’s face at the sudden movement. 

“Take it easy there, loverboy.” Keith removed Lance’s hands from the bare skin of his hips and placed them onto the denim covering his thighs. “Why don’t we get you back on the couch?”

He clumsily placed a hand behind his own waist, forcing himself up and sliding his weight to lean against the couch. “But, but I like having a cute guy on top of me.” Lance protested, moving his hands to stroke the outside of Keith’s thighs.

“Well, this doesn’t have to be the only time I’m on top of you.” Keith flicked his tongue over his lips as he scooted a little closer to the man under him. He looped his arms around Lance’s neck, resting them on his friend's shoulders as he settled into his sitting position.

Leaning forward as best he could, he attempted to press his lips onto Keith’s, only to be pushed back gently. Blue eyes looked up to the purple ones peering down at him, pleading to get what he wanted. When his silent attempt had finally shown its failure, he decided to try and use his words, “But I want a kiss.”

“No.” The words were firm. 

Did Keith hate him? That had to be it. There was no other explanation for Keith’s sudden rejection. He had been receptive to everything else during the course of the night. He must of just been humoring him, so Lance would not feel bad. That was the only thing that made sense. Keith probably had absolutely no interest in him whatsoever. He had just tricked himself into thinking otherwise.

It was almost as if he had been stabbed in his chest. Why did it hurt so bad? The sharp pain radiated as he thought more about the exchange that had just occurred. It was Keith’s right to tell him no, but why did he not like him enough to even just kiss him? Did he do something wrong? He had to. There could not have been another reason for Keith’s sudden rejection. 

He bit his bottom lip, tilting his head to look up at Keith. He felt the look of anguish on his face, eyebrows pressed inward and water about to spill from his eyes. His hands dropped from Keith’s legs and rested on the floor. Suddenly, he  _ really  _ wanted another drink.

“Lance…” Keith said softly. The fingers of his right hand brushed through the brown hair in front of him soothingly. “Not like that, okay? Not like this. I’m more than willing to make out with you when you’re sober. But you’re drunk, and I don’t want to take advantage of you.”

“It’s okay. I promise.” Lance slurred. 

Keith shook his head. “No. Ask me again when you’re sober.”

“Do you hate me?” He asked, hearing how pathetic he sounded as his voice broke halfway through. Of course. It was not as if he could give anyone an idea of him that did not revolve around him being weak.

“What are you talking about?” Keith sat back on his heels. “Of course I don’t hate you. If I hated you, I wouldn’t be here right now.”

“But you told me I shouldn’t drink, and then I did it anyway.” Lance felt water roll down his cheeks. 

Pathetic.

That was all he was. Here he was, with Keith, a nice and cute guy all to himself, and all he could do was drink over his problems. Pathetic. 

Pathetic, pathetic, pathetic.

“I’m not mad at you.”

“Bullshit. All I, all I do is fuck things up all the time. I just ruin everything for everyone and do things wrong.” Lance reached past Keith, hand stretching for the bottle sitting on the coffee table behind his friend.

“No. You’re done for the night.”

“Please.” He choked out, “I need it.”

“No you don’t. Don’t teach yourself that it’ll make you feel better. You’ll just be more depressed in the morning. I’ve seen what that kind of drinking does to people. It kills people. It killed my dad.”

“But I want to die.” Lance confessed, “And I can’t even kill myself right…”

“Lance, stop it.” 

“No. It’s true.” Lance sunk into himself. “I don’t want to be alive.”

Keith’s hands cupped Lance’s face, his thumb brushing over his cheek. “I don’t want you to think like that. It hurts to listen to it.”

“I’m just bad at everything. Everyone leaves me. You’re going to leave too, and I’m going to just be stuck with Lotor.”

“If I was going to leave, I wouldn't be sitting with you right now.”

“But you did. You left for a long time. I never knew why. Was it me? Am I that bad?”

“No, no, no. It was never because of you. I promise. I was just dumb and gave up the one person who always made me happy.”

“I’m sorry I’m so annoying.”

“Shhh, you’re not annoying. Let’s get you back on the couch, okay?” Keith waited for Lance to give him the okay before hoisting him up and guiding him to sit on couch cushions. “How are you feeling now?”

“Sad.”

“Why are you sad?”

“Because life wants me to be sad all the time.”

“Okay, well, why do you think that?”

“I was sad when you left, then I was sad dating Lotor, then I was happy with Plax, and then life took it away from me, and I was sad.”

“What did it take away? What happened?”

“My baby girl.”

“Plaxum?”

“No. My baby girl. She was so little, and she just died. It wasn’t fair Keith, why her?”

“You… you had a kid?”

“Yeah… Liliana.”

“Lance… I… I didn’t know.”

“Why was it her? She only had a few hours. I wanted to be a dad.”

“I don’t know. Why did my dad die? Why did Ryou die? Why did Shiro’s parents die? People just die sometimes.”

“But she was a baby!”

“I know, I know. Ryou was still a child too. Sometimes life sucks.”

“But I don’t want it to.”

“I don’t want it to either.”

Lance sniffed, sloppily wiping his eyes of water.

Keith took his hand, interlocking their fingers. “Tell me about Plaxum.”

“She’s so pretty. And she was so nice. She wanted the baby too. And she made me so happy. Oh, I stopped throwing up when I dated her.”

“She sounds like she was really good for you. Why did you break up?”

“She dumped me. I’m annoying and a bad boyfriend.”

Keith gave his hand a squeeze. “You’re not a bad boyfriend.”

“Yes, I am. Everyone keeps breaking up with me.”

“You… you have a relationship now, right?”

“I hate it.”

“Tell me about that then.”

“He makes me feel so bad. But everyone else leaves.”

“How does he make you feel bad?”

“I can’t do anything. He just wants me to fucking stand there and look pretty. And when I don’t listen, he gets mean.”

“How is he mean?”

“He hits me and yells at me. Or he just doesn’t talk to me.”

“Then why do you stay with him?”

“No one else can love me.”

“I don’t think that’s true.”

“It is.”

“No. Plaxum and I both loved you.”

“But you both hate me.”

“I don’t hate you.”

“Yes, you do.”

“What would convince you I don’t hate you?”

“I donno.”

Keith sighed, leaning his weight into Lance’s side. “There has to have been at least a few other people who interested you at some point? Did you date anyone else?”

“No.”

“Did you  _ see _ anyone? I have a hard time believing you of all people didn’t even try and look.”

“I liked people…”

“Tell me about them. Did they make you happy?”

“Yeah.”

“Why didn’t you ever date them?”

“My life sucks, and I’m dumb.”

Keith brushed his fingers through Lance’s hair, turning his body to face his friend. 

“I should just tell Lotor I’ll stop bitching.”

“Cut it out. You’re not doing anything wrong.”

His stomach churned, something crawling up his throat and begging to be released. Why now? Of course he had to feel sick as soon as he got to spend time with Keith. 

“Are you alright?” Keith’s eyes looked over him, eyebrows knitted together. Placing a hand on Lance’s arm, he used the other to tilt Lance’s face towards him.

He opened his mouth to speak, yet, he was only met with a gross choking, as if his body was attempting to purge itself of something. Doubling over towards Keith, the contents of his stomach were lost, spread over the two of them in an unsanitary mess.

Keith glanced at their laps, then back up at Lance. "Well, it's somehow not on the couch."

He let out a small groan and leaned his forehead on Keith's shoulder. "I'm sorry."

"Let's just get you cleaned up." Keith carefully stood up, attentive to the bodily fluids on his clothes. "Do you have a rag or something? Paper towels?"

"Kitchen."

One careful step after another, he made his way towards the doorway.

"Keith! No! Don't go!" He reached out desperately to attempt to stop him.

Keith turned and stepped back in front of him. "I'm not going anywhere, alright?"

"But..."

"Just to the kitchen."

He looked up at Keith, blue eyes pleading with the other man to beg him to stay put, to keep him company and not leave his sight. "Promise?"

"I promise. You can even count.Two minutes, and I'll be right back here again."

"Okay..."

Cautiously, Keith left the room, acutely aware of how the vomit on his pants soaked through to his legs, and the more solid pieces began to start their descent to the floor.

Watching Keith disappear behind the door frame, he let himself sink into the couch, his new unpleasant feelings taking over and digging their way into him. They latched onto him, digging their claws in deep and refusing to release him, just as if he was something without a will of its own, just a piece of meat to control. Life had to be this way, did it not? It had to suck everything from him as if it was just waiting for him to run out of steam. Then he would be left for dead. That was all he was good for anyway. Just to give his negative thoughts his strength until he was drowning in negativity.

Keith entered the room with an old towel in hand. It was off-white, and strands of fabric had begun to stick out from the frayed sides. The jeans were not impeccable, but they no longer had the thickest parts of the substance coating them. His friend knelt in front of him, spreading Lance's legs so he could settle between them. Turning to the left, he began the task of cleaning off Lance's clothing to the best of his abilities. "See? How long was I gone for?"

"I donno. Lost count."

"We're going to take a quick shower to clean up. Then we’ll get you some sleep. Sound good?" Keith started working on the other leg.

"Mhm." Lance gave him a nod.

"Can you stand? Or do you need help?" Keith asked, placing the dirty fabric on the coffee table behind him.

"I, I donno." He placed a hand behind him, attempting to push himself onto his feet, only to fall back and end up in the same position he had started in.

"Alright, I got you. Give me your arm." Keith took Lance's arm into his hands, pulling it over his shoulders and hoisting Lance up. Placing his other arm around Lance's waist, he embarked on the journey to lead his friend through the house. Attentive to Lance's intoxicated state, he tread each stair carefully, one at a time until they conquered the top step. He ushered Lance into the bathroom, closing the door behind him. Untangling from Lance, Keith sat him down on the lidded toilet. "Do you think you can shower alone? Or do you need help?"

"Help." Lance admitted.

"Are you okay with me helping you stand in the shower?"

He nodded, giving Keith permission to start the water and remove both of their clothes. As he took on the challenge of removing Lance's pants and boxers, his eyes took a moment too long, as if something was out of place. Though, his attention was quickly recaught as he finished the job and tossed both of their clothes into a pile on the floor, save for his binder which took home neatly on the towel rack. After the water had been sufficiently warmed, he helped Lance over the porcelain rim of the tub.

Standing by Keith, leaning his weight into him, he let the water run over him. Balancing himself on Keith's stable figure, he made a go for the faucet above the tub, turning it to the left, hoping to feel the familiar burn of scalding hot water against his skin.

"Lance!" Keith's voice escaped him with a twinge of pain, "That's way too hot!" He reached over, moving the faucet to a much safer temperature.

"But I like it." Lance whined.

"Well, I don't." Bringing a bar of soap into his free hand, Keith quickly rubbed it over his and Lance's legs before making his attempt at exiting the shower. He quickly dried his friend off with a towel, and then used it on himself before slipping his boxers back on and stealing Lance's shirt. Wrapping the fabric around Lance's waist, he unlocked the bathroom door and led the way up the stairs to his friend's room. Laying him down onto the bed, Keith turned and rummaged through Lance’s dresser. Shifting around the different articles of clothing, he picked out a suitable outfit for slumber and tossed it towards Lance. "I'll be back. I'm just going to grab our dirty clothes and put away the rag. Can I use the washer?"

"Mmm." Lance nodded, attempting to clothe himself with the fabrics Keith had tossed at him. While the t-shirt Keith suggested found itself stuck on his head and torso, Keith exited the room, leaving Lance to lie himself down onto the blue-gray comforter once the top finally made it over Lance's head. His eyes met the ceiling, staring at the way it slanted. Where was Keith? He wanted him back now. He wanted to touch him, cuddle him, and bask in the warmth his body provided. It was not fair. Why did he have to be so far away? He wanted to see his face and kiss it.

A trail of footsteps made their way towards him. "I put all our stuff in the washer. Can I borrow something?"

"Keithy!" Lance reached out to him, a large smile spreading across his face once more. "You're back!"

A fond look crossed Keith's face. "Yeah. I am. Can I borrow some clothes though?"

"Yeah, yeah. But I want cuddles."

"I promise we can cuddle. Let me change first." Keith walked back to the dresser, picking out a set of clothing and changing quickly. Without missing a beat, he joined Lance on the bed, pressing a kiss to his cheek.

Lance unleashed an array of sloppy pecks across Keith's face and the underside of his jaw.

A soft laugh escaped Keith, "Slow down there, loverboy."

"But I have a cute guy in my bed." Lance whined, pressing his face into the crook of Keith's neck.

"I said wait until you're sober."

"I can't give you kisses?" Lance pouted.

"I'd rather wait, okay?" Keith ran his fingers through Lance's hair, pushing his bangs back above his head. "I don't want you doing anything you wouldn't do without alcohol."

"But I want kisses  _ now _ ." He pushed his bottom lip out in an attempt to convince Keith to give in to his wants.

"The puppy dog eyes work better when you're not drunk off your ass." Keith pressed himself closer to Lance. "Are you okay? Do you feel like throwing up again?"

He shook his head.

"I want you to sleep on your side just in case anyway."

"But I want cuddles."

"I'll hold you from behind. Just keep your mouth facing the edge of the bed in case you throw up." Keith gently shifted Lance onto his side, making sure that his friend was close enough to reach the trash can if he needed. Leaning over the other body in the bed, he turned the lamp off, letting darkness take over the room as he settled the both of them under the covers.

Feeling Keith's arm around his waist, he let himself relax into the other body in the bed. The warmth between the two of them quickly dragged him into the sleep that his body had been begging for since the first few drinks, Keith's steady breaths lulling his mind into a safe sense of tranquility. 


	25. Chapter 25

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Maybe this was how it was supposed to be. He could lean on Keith one night and have Keith lean on him the next. A natural give and take that worked for the both of them, never leaving one to struggle alone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey wow sorry I kinda disappeared for a bit. I got a new job and I've been working lots of overtime, so I haven't had a lot of time to write. But, here I am, because I promise I'm not dead and neither is this story. So, here is your next chapter, extra long because of your wait.
> 
> Trigger warnings for mentions of domestic abuse, mentions of self harm, mentions of eating disorders, mentions of alcoholism, and implied gender dysphoria.

Shifting in his bed, Lance opened his left eye to peak at the clock. _11:52 a.m._

Pulling his pillow from underneath him, he pushed it over his face as a clunk sounded against the headboard. Sitting up quickly, he glanced around for the source. A white head of hair moved up to his level, an arm rubbing at the bleary purple eyes the associated face adorned. A small, tired groan escaped the man in question as he looked blankly at Lance. His eyes moved to Lance, then to mattress before he laid his head back down and closed his eyelids. His arms secured around one of Lance's as he fell back into sleep.

Reaching for his phone, he scrolled through a few messages from the night before. A few from Shiro, a couple dozen from his group chat with Hunk and Pidge, and one from Lotor. After answering the ones that required his attention, he attempted to follow Keith's example, but failed to actually execute it properly.

He stared at the ceiling while he waited for Keith to wake, quickly realizing that that would not be happening anytime soon without some assistance. Gently shaking Keith's body, he spoke softly in his attempts to coax Keith to wake.

"One more hour." Keith said, half asking and half stating his next course of action.

"You can't sleep all day buddy." Lance replied, "Let's at least get you some breakfast."

"I'll pass. I'm tired."

"Food will give you some energy. I'll make you whatever you want."

Keith rolled over, attempting to turn his back to Lance while still keeping a firm hold of his arm.

"You do realize that's my arm, right?"

No response.

"You can't stay in bed all day. It's almost noon."

"Shiro lets me."

"Well, I'm not Shiro."

"I still want to sleep."

"Please?" Lance knelt on the bed, top half of his body hovering over Keith as he attempted to get a good look at his face. "Is there any way I can convince you?"

"No."

He frowned. "Nothing at all?"

"No." Keith made an effort to get closer into the bed.

"Why not?"

"I'm tired."

"I'm tired too. But, I still need to get up everyday." He sat back on his heels. "How about this? I have the day off today. If you get out of bed, we can spend it together? We don't even need to leave the house. I'll come up with some lowkey stuff for us to do. We can just watch some TV. Sound good?"

Keith's head turned slightly towards him.

"We can even dye your hair back to black."

"Can I take naps?"

"Yeah, just not in the bed. If we go downstairs, you can sleep on my lap. Deal?"

Keith gave him a nod before slowly sitting up.

Taking each of Keith's hands into his own, he pulled him up and off the bed. Once he had Keith on his feet, he handed him the binder the other man had left on his dresser. "You didn't wash it?"

"No. Does it really matter?"

"Yeah, it kinda does dude."

Keith raised his shoulders in a slight shrug before settling into the garment.

Digging through his dresser, he picked out an outfit for himself and then one for Keith. Handing half the clothing to his friend, he dressed himself and waited for Keith to do the same. Wrapping an arm around Keith's waist, he guided him down the staircase and entered the kitchen.

"Good morning, Lance." A voice answered to the sounds of their arrival.

Lifting his gaze from Keith, he was met with the presence of his mother and sister in the room. "Hey, mami. Hey, Marissa."

"Who's the friend—oh! Is that Keith?" Her second sentence came out with excitement, "I never thought I'd be seeing you again! How have you been?"

"Okay." Keith said groggily, "Nice to see you again, Mrs. Fuentes."

"No need to be so polite Keith. You practically grew up here. You're still allowed to call me mom too if you want."

"He's a bit wiped out. Long night." Lance said in an attempt to excuse Keith's fatigue, "Where's papi?"

"He's at the restaurant." Marissa answered, eyes not straying from the homework she was working on at the counter, "He called you lazy again."

"Yeah, yeah, I figured." Lance waved his hand dismissively. "Again, I had a late night."

"Have you boys eaten? I'm finishing up lunch and figured I'd make you some, but I didn't know you had a friend over."

"It's okay. I'm fine. Keith can have it. I'll eat later."

"Lance..." His mother's voice came out laced with concern.

"Don't worry about me mami. I'm fine."

"It makes me feel better to see you eating."

Guiding Keith into a chair by the kitchen counter, he stepped over to the drawers next to the stove. Opening the second one to the left, he retrieved an energy bar and waved it in the air, "See? Food. No need to worry."

A sigh escaped her, "You know I just worry about you, mi vida. I want to make sure you're healthy. Even at twenty-two, you're still my baby boy."

"I know mami, but I just don't want you to worry about me. Marissa and David need you more."

"Nonsense. You need love too." She turned back to the counter to finish the food she had been preparing. "O tal vez Keith ayudó con eso."

"Mami!" He screeched, "¡Keith y yo no singamos anoche!"

"Quiet down. I'm teasing you, love. I'm just happy to see you two being friends again. Estaban feliz juntos."

"Lotor es mi novio, mami."

"I know, I know. And he's a good boyfriend to you. But it doesn't mean you can't be close with Keith still. Can you hand me la cuchara?"

"Yeah. Here you go." Lance reached into the drawer closest to him and handed her the largest spoon available. He slid into the seat next to Keith, watching his mother serve the food she had prepared onto several plates, sliding one in front of each person in the room. "Gracias, mami."

"Of course, love." She placed the dirtied kitchenware into the sink and started soaking them in soapy water. "Marissa and I are going for her dentist appointment later. Will you boys be alright?"

"We'll be fine mami. We're adults."

"I know, I know. Just checking." She turned her attention to Keith. "How have you been? I haven't seen you in forever."

"I'm alive." Keith answered, picking at the food in front of him.

"Well, alive is something right? Are things not going well?"

"I've been living with Shiro for the last couple months, but he's very anxious about everything I do. So, I don't know how much longer that's going to work out." He confessed, pushing his bangs out of his face with one hand.

"Well, if you ever need a place to stay, you're always welcome here. Just know that family is important, Shiro worries, because he cares for you."

"He worries too much."

"We all worry too much about the ones we love. It's natural. I'm sure there are people you worry about too. He's not trying to treat you like you're young. He just wants to make sure you're okay, and who can blame him? I'm sure if someone was doing something that worried you, you'd act the same. And that's okay."

"I suppose."

"If you ever need a job, just let us know too. We can give you a position in the restaurant. We're here for you too Keith, even if you and Lance aren't together anymore."

"Thanks."

"See Keith. Told you people love you." Lance chipped in, attempting to lighten Keith's mood.

"Sure."

"Oh, come on." Lance poked at Keith's cheek playfully. "You know it too. You've got a whole house who's crazy about you here."

"I'm sure all the wood floors and walls will keep me company when I'm old."

He bumped his forehead into Keith's shoulder. "Knock off the self deprivation buddy."

"Oh, Lance. David called while you were asleep. Make sure you give him a call sometime this week, okay?"

“I’ll text him.”

"I'll hold you to it."

"When have I ever lied to you mami?"

"I seem to remember your childhood a lot differently than you do."

"Okay, okay, I'll stop." He threw his hands up in defeat. Turning his body towards Keith, he looked over what remained on the porcelain in front of the other man, "Are you finished with breakfast?"

Keith nodded.

"Do you feel up to doing anything?"

"Not really." Keith admitted.

A frown made its way onto Lance's face, only to get erased moments later as a new thought crossed his mind. "Why don't we dye your hair back? After that's all done we can just stay in my room and watch some bad movies on my laptop. How does that sound?"

"I don't have a choice, do I?"

"Nope." He rested his chin on his hand, smile refusing to fade.

"Okay. Take me upstairs master."

"Ooh, kinky."

"Lance!" His mother scolded, "That's not appropriate."

He pushed his bottom lip out in a pout. "Sorry mami. Can you forgive me?"

"Ay, you're not even sorry."

"But you still love me."

"A mother's love never fades." She turned her attention towards the third person at the counter. "Are you done Marissa? We have to get going."

"Mhm." She pushed the green and off-white plate towards her mother.

"You can do your own dishes. You're a big girl."

"I'm not big enough to eat in my room."

"Because we're supposed to eat as a family."   

"Does that make Keith family?"

"Yes, Keith is part of the family as long as he wants to be."

"But why does Lance get to eat in his room?"

"Well, Lance should be having more meals with the family."

"Well, I think it's just fine if I eat by myself in my room after work. I'm tired." Lance interjected.

"I worry when you do that. Eras un esqueleto rumbero. I want to make sure you're eating enough."

"I'm fine mami. I promise. See, look, I ate all my breakfast."

"I know, I know. But you and your siblings are my everything. I just want you all to grow up happy and healthy. If it's Lotor that's making you happy, that's okay, and if it turns out to be Keith, well, that's okay too. As long as whoever you're with makes you smile everyday, then I'll support you and love them too."

"Mami..."

"I mean it. I'll always support whatever it is that's making you happy."

"I know. But Keith and I are friends. There's no romantic stuff going on."

“If you insist, love.”

Something tugged at the fabric of his shirt, pulling it away from him as if he was being signaled for attention. Glancing down, he found Keith’s hand was the culprit. “Yes, handsome? Is there anything I can do for you this morning?”

“Can we go watch TV?” The request seemed simplistic, but it was laced with a double meaning only the both of them knew of. The tired eyes that peered up at him from where he had laid his head on the table between his arms solidified that.

He removed Keith’s hand from his shirt, raising it to his lips and pressing them against the fingers that were now in his proximity, he flashed Keith a smile before replying, “Yeah, go pick a show, and I’ll be right there.”

Keith needed no further instruction to leave the room.

“Oh, there’s nothing going on?” His mother teased as soon as Keith left earshot.

“It’s nothing mami. We’re friends, not boyfriends.”

His mother watched Marissa pad out of the room before pressing further about her son’s love life. “What about Lotor? Does he know?”

“There’s _nothing_ going on mami.”

“I know feelings when I see them Lance. It’s okay if you like him, but I feel as if you should let Lotor know.”

“Things between Lotor and I are a lot more complicated than that.”

“Oh?”

“Lotor and I have I guess what you’d call an open relationship? We have an emotional commitment to each other, so I can’t date anyone else, but we can both sleep with other people right now. We’re changing it when we’re both ready to get a little more serious, but it’s just long distance and all that stuff, you know?” He waved his hand dismissively by the end, as if he was waving the question itself away as he attempted to avoid real answers.

“Then are you and Keith sleeping together? What do you call it again? There was a word…”

“The polite one or the one most people use?”

“The _polite_ one.”

“Friends with benefits. And no. We’re not that.”

“Lance. Remember when you came out to us?”

“Yeah. What about it?”

“Do you remember what I said to you?”

“Love not judge?”

“And to listen to your heart.” She gently poked his chest with her index finger. “When I say that, it’s not just about gender. I want you to pursue the person who makes you happy.”

“I’m with Lotor.” He leaned his head on his palm. “I’m not exactly a faithful boyfriend if I run off with the first person that gives me an ounce of attention.”

“Let me see your hand.”

He quirked an eyebrow at his mother, then obliged to her request.

She took it into her own hands, making a point to show Lance his bare ring finger. “I don’t see a ring here.”

“That doesn’t mean I can just decide to run away with Keith. I made a commitment to Lotor.”

“Dating is to figure out who makes you happy and who you love. If Lotor doesn’t fit that mould, then it’s okay to break that commitment.”

“I don’t want to just leave him for someone else. That hurts a lot.”

“But sometimes you have to worry about yourself. You look so happy with Keith. I haven’t seen you look like that since you were dating Plaxum.”

He waved a hand in front of his face dismissively. “Yeah, yeah, I know. I was happy and going to be a perfect son and give you a grandkid. Well, it didn’t happen, so it’s done and over.”

A frown came over her face as she reached out to stroke his hair. “I know you’re still hurting a lot. We can get you someone to talk to about it.”

“I don’t need a therapist anymore. I’m fine.”

“Well, you have to at least talk to the doctor when you have your appointment. You’ll eventually run out of medication and have to see him.”

“I’ll just drink myself stupid like my boyfriend does. No one seems to give _him_ issues about it.”

“Lance.”

He crossed his arms over his chest, pointedly turning his face away. “What?”

“Is something going on with you and him? You can tell me about it. I won’t bring it up with your father if you don’t want me to. I just want to help you.” She kept contact on his arm, her hand covering part of it in a comforting gesture.

“I thought you loved Lotor.” Lance said, body relaxing slightly, “You always said how much you wanted me to marry him.”

“I thought maybe you were just going through a rough patch when you lived at school and going to the hospital helped you come out of it. You started dating Plaxum and you seemed on top of the world with her. Then you had another rough patch, and I thought maybe he came back to be there for you. But, after seeing how you are with Keith after so many years… I’m feeling as if I missed a pattern.” She admitted, “You seem more free with Keith than you did when Lotor was visiting. You’re always so wound up around him.”

A sigh escaped Lance, and he leaned against the counter, sinking his upper body into his arms. “Keith just gets me. Even five years later, he understands me more than my boyfriend does. I feel like I just make bad choices in partners.”

“If that were the case, then Plaxum and Keith wouldn’t have been in your life,” his mother pointed out.“Yeah, I guess. But it doesn’t change the fact I keep taking Lotor back and dealing with him.”

“You’re too hard on yourself mi vida. All I ask from you is to follow your heart. If it leads you to Lotor, that’s okay. If it leads you to Keith, then that’s also okay. And if it leads you to someone completely different, then that’s okay too.” She assured, “And I’ll always be here for you no matter what. I just want you to be happy.”

“Happy’s a high standard.”

“And I want to help you reach it.”

“I know.” He leaned his head onto the side of his arm. “I think I’m going to go see where Keith wandered off to.”

“I’ll take care of the dishes, don’t worry.”

“Thanks mami.” He stood from the counter, excusing himself before he left the room. Traveling down the connected hallway, he stepped into the living room, greeted by Keith’s sleeping form decorating the couch. His head was propped up on the pillow Blue had torn up on several occasions, one of the most prominent stitching jobs Lance had completed only inches above Keith’s head. The empty area Keith did not take up himself called Lance’s name, inviting him into the plush softness that was offered.

He resigned, wiggling his way into the spaces Keith had left open. Moving Keith’s body so it rested on top of him. He snagged the blanket resting on the back of the furniture in question and tossed it over the both of them. His arms snaked around Keith’s form, securing him close as the rise and fall of his friend’s chest brought a reminder of reality. A few months ago, he would have adamantly fought against ever having anything to do with Keith again, that Keith was someone who was not allowed in this part of his life. Yet, here he was now, opting to pull Keith even closer than he already had been, losing himself in the shared body heat between them. His eyes slid shut. Maybe if Keith had come back a few months earlier than he had, Lance would of been able to have this everyday, because he knew this was bound to end. Once Keith left to go back to Shiro and Matt’s apartment, it would be over.

Maybe in another life. 

* * *

 Raising an arm to his face, he rubbed the hardened mucus from his eyes. The absence of Keith was undeniable, leaving a cold empty spot where he was only hours ago. Of course Keith had left him as soon as he had woken up. Lance had probably crossed a line. Keith was never going to want to turn to him again for anything. He would never stay with him again, never let Lance press close to him in his sleep or wrap his arms around him for the sake of positive physical contact.

He always had to be like this. He always had to fuck up and push the people he really wanted away, did he not?

Maybe it was worth just letting himself have a drink now. At least it was a bit later than the time he had decided to start his alcohol consumption last night. In the end, the liquid made everything so much easier to swallow. Hopefully, it would make his inevitable future with Lotor that much easier to digest.

He rose to his feet, making a straight path to his room. The flights of stairs became mountains as the emotions weighed down onto him. He could probably just drink himself stupid again tonight and lie on his bed until he expelled his own guts and choked himself on his vomit. It would be enough to make everyone just believe it was all an accident.

A whiff of cigarette smoke hit his nose. Turning to the scent’s origin, he paused. Had Keith not really left? The window stood open, leading onto a slightly more difficult way onto the roof than he had been used to in his high school years, but a way there nonetheless. Poking his head out, the ashy aroma became more distinctive. He planted a foot outside his window, then another, before settling himself safely onto the roof of his house.

“Keith?”

The man in question paused, hand raised in the air as if he was preparing to take another drag. Purple eyes moved their attention to Lance before moving back to the shingles covering the roof. He continued the motion he had stopped, pressing the white stick to his mouth as Lance joined him.

“You okay?”

Keith exhaled what he had taken into his body. “Yeah. Just needed a cigarette. Figured your parents didn’t need to see it.”

“I hate to break it to you, but your clothes smell like it already.” Lance informed, settling into a spot next to Keith, monitoring himself to be sure that he did not come too close. Scaring Keith off by putting all his needs for physical affection onto him was one of the last things he wanted to achieve tonight.

“Yeah, I know.” Keith replied defeatedly, face dropping as the words fell from his mouth.

“I didn’t mean it to be harsh…”

“I didn’t take it like that.” Keith took another drag of his cigarette.

“Why do you smoke if you don’t like people knowing?”

“If I came out of the last few years of my life addicted to nicotine of all things, I’ll take it. I made a lot of dumb choices.”

“You’re not the only one.” Lance brought his right knee to his chest, resting his elbow against it as he took in the sight of the small town below them. Leaning his head against it, his eyes focused on Keith. Purple eyes stared off into the distance, gazing into the endless trees that surrounded them. They seemed lost, as if they did not have anywhere to go. A silence fell between the two of them, unmoving as Keith filled the moment with nothing but a couple cigarette drags. No phone in his friend’s hand, no music to occupy him either. It was as if Keith had spent his time on the roof in thought, and honestly, Lance wanted to jump onto the train with him.

“What’s on your mind?”

“A lot.”

“Like?”

“What makes me so sad.”

“Oh…”

Another silence. This one longer than the first. It was as if time slowed, dragging on as there was not another word uttered between them.

“I saw your thigh.” The words were sudden, Keith’s eyes looking down at the white stick resting between his fingers.

“Keith, it’s really not what you think.”

“Don’t lie. I’m not here to try and make you feel bad.”

“I was in a bad place. I’m doing better.”

“Some of them are really new. They’re barely scabbed over.”

“I just had a bad night. I promise, I’m not doing that anymore.”

“Can you stop trying to defend yourself about it for five minutes?” Keith’s voice broke at the outburst, face snapping towards Lance, “I care about you! I care about you so fucking much. I just want you to be okay. I’m not trying to say what your mental state is. I just want to be here for you and let you know that if you need me, I want to be the person who’s there for you.” Keith paused for a moment, then continued in a softer voice, “It hurts to know you’re still hurting that much. I’m not here to judge you, okay? I want to be there for you when you need someone, like you were for me the other night.”

“You’re worth that love.” Lance’s eyes shifted towards Keith’s empty right hand, the lonesomeness of his apendange begging for Lance’s hand to accompany it.

“And so are you. Don’t let anyone else tell you otherwise.”

“Easier said than done.” Lance brought his second knee up to his chest.

“I know, but for now, can you accept how much I care about you? Then work from there?”

“I’ll try.”

Another silence took over. Keith’s left hand brought his cigarette back to his lips, taking another drag before shaking the ashes from the end.

“What else makes you sad?”

“What do you mean?” Keith questioned.

“You said you did a lot of thinking about what makes you sad. I want to talk about it. Maybe I can help…”

“Hm… I thought about how I act sometimes.”

“As in?”

“I make the worst decisions. And they don’t just hurt me. They hurt everyone around me.” Purple eyes lowered to the cigarette he held with him.

“You have a problem. It happens.”

“I’m just a bit fucked up.” Keith replied, deflecting Lance’s statement.

“It’s okay to have some mental health problems. There are people out there who want to help you get through them.”

“I just need to work on being less impulsive.”

“Keith, _I’m_ impulsive. I open my mouth when I shouldn’t and sometimes think it’s a good idea to go for a drive at midnight with no gas in my tank.” Lance pointed out, “What you’re having problems with is a whole other level.”

“Because I’m fucked up.”

“Then tell me why you think that.”

“I just have these moments ever since Shiro’s parents died. I’ll either be on top of the world, and the only thing that matters is having a good time, because I was wasting it when I was sad. Or, I’m just a complete asshole and yell at everyone, and everything bothers me. I think dumb things are good ideas, and I don’t even think about anyone else before doing them. You needed me, and I left you. Shiro needed me, and I left him. Acxa needed me, and I left her. I’m no better than my mom. I leave everyone just like her.”

“Keith…” Lance fought the urge to slide his own fingers between Keith’s as he spoke, “I don’t hold you leaving against you like I did a couple months ago.”

“I’m also just an asshole who uses people for sex.”

“I don’t think you’re using anyone. If the agreement was a no feelings hookup, then that’s not using someone.”

“But I hate seeing people like that. When I get like that, I feel like I’m so focused on getting laid that I forget that I should be building relationships with these people too. Five years, and I can’t even say I’ve really been in love since we broke up.”

“Look, I’ve fucked people just for sex too Keith. It’s okay. It doesn’t make you a bad person.”

“Even if it doesn’t, I still feel so gross after I have one of those episodes. I fuck a ton of people, and I can’t even keep track.”

“Have you considered getting a fuck buddy then?”

“I have.” Keith replied, his top teeth pressing into his bottom lip. His eyes flicked over to Lance, then back to the shingles of the roof. “There’s really only one person I think I’d feel okay doing that with though.”

“Then you should talk to him. It might help you if you feel like that.”

“He’s taken.”

“Oh… sorry.”

“It’s okay. It’s my fault. I should’ve worked to make myself worth a little more.”

“Keith, look at me.” Lance waited for those familiar purple eyes to meet his before continuing, “You’re worth more than sex.”

Keith let out a harsh laugh. “That’s a good one.”

A concerned look fell upon Lance’s face. “Can… can I ask you something?”

“Go for it.”

“Your boyfriend… did he… hurt you?”

“Bold question for someone who won’t admit to his boyfriend being abusive.” Keith deflected. His eyes refused to meet Lance’s anymore, only watching how the ashes on his cigarette crumbled away with the unsteadiness of his fingers.

“Fine. Whatever. I just wanted to help.”

“You won’t let anyone help you with Lotor.”

“Because I don’t need help. I just don’t see any other takers. If he’s the one who wants to be with a trainwreck like me, then that’s who I’ll be with.”

“But why do you deal with him?”

“I don’t want to talk about it, okay?” Lance rose to his feet. “Why don’t we dye your hair back before the rest of my family gets home.”

“Fine.” Keith stuck the white stick into his arm, matching the marks around the area from other times he had done so. A soft hiss escaped Keith before he stood and joined Lance on the journey inside.

“Take one of my old t-shirts, and I’ll meet you in the bathroom with the dye.” Lance instructed, picking up the bag that had been picked up from their trip to the convenience store yesterday. Keith’s footsteps could be heard echoing down the stairs as blue eyes scanned the room for the alcohol bottle he had drank from last night. Upon finding the object in question, he grabbed it into his hand and made his way to the bathroom he and Keith had been in twice in the last few days.

He pushed the door open, revealing Keith sitting on the rim of the tub in Lance’s worn out shirt. He held his android phone in his hands, scrolling through it as if he was reading something.

“So, I have the dye. It shouldn’t take too long since you have short hair. Once, I dyed Allura’s. It took forever, because it’s down to her waist, but you should be fine.” Lance closed the door behind him. He took a sip from the bottle he had carried into the room with him before placing it onto the procession of the side of the sink and getting to work.

“Do you have to drink that?” Keith asked, a tone of distaste entering his voice.

“It’s just a little drinking. It’s relaxing.”

“When you’re out with friends, yeah.”

“How is it any different from you smoking?” Lance asked, opening up the box of black hair dye.

“Because I’m already addicted to it. I don’t want to watch another person I care about lose themselves to alcoholism. You have time to stop.”

“It’s not like this is a new thing for me. I’ll be fine. I know my limits.”

“Can’t you just respect that I don’t like you drinking around me like this?”

“How is it any different from the New Years party? You were drinking too.”

“Because I rarely drink. That was the first time I had a drink in a while, and it was with a group of people. I haven’t had a drink since then either. Social drinking is different from how you’re leaning on it right now.”

“Look, I’m just trying to do whatever helps at this point. And if this is it, then this is it.”

“I know people who said that and ended up dead.”

“Can we talk about something else?” Lance took another sip from the bottle.

“Fine.” Keith huffed, a sense of annoyance radiating from him.

The room became stiff, filled with nothing but the sounds of Lance’s movements to bring Keith’s hair back to normal. He was not sure how long the silence lasted, how long him and Keith remained there wordless, only that it was Keith who eventually spoke.

"What started it?"

Lance looked over, tearing his gaze away from the work he was doing on Keith's head. "What do you mean? What started what?"

"The drinking." Keith clarified.

"College." He focused back onto Keith. "At first it was just party type stuff. Then when I got with Lotor, I just went downhill, and whenever I wasn't trying to restrict my food intake, I would deal with him by drinking. Once I had my hospital visit, it got a little better, but then Lotor and I broke up, and I was pretty torn up, and here walks in Shiro, another older guy who's willing to buy me drinks. Except he was actually nice to me and respected me. So we drank together a lot and—"

"Wait!" Keith's head snapped to attempt to meet Lance's gaze. "Did you and Shiro have a thing?"

"I um..." Lance bit his lip for a moment, then quickly let out a rushed, "Forget I said anything."

"My brother dated my ex-boyfriend." Keith said aloud, wide eyed.

"No! It wasn't like that!" Lance defended, throwing his hands up, splattering some hair dye onto a nearby tile.

"My brother _fucked_ my ex-boyfriend." Keith clarified.

"No! Not like that either! I promise!" Lance retaliated, panicked.

"Then what?" Keith asked, "Because you don't talk about someone like that unless you had _something_ going on. Fuck, this all makes sense now. No wonder you're both so close."

"No, no, no. Look. We weren't exactly a couple, and we weren't exactly not a couple. We didn't really fuck. Like, yeah, we made out and shit, but we never fucked or officially dated. It was just a little thing we had going for a few months before we broke it off. But no one knows about it, and I wasn't supposed to tell you, so please don't tell Shiro you know."

"What made you break up? To be honest, I'd rather come back to New York to find you dating Shiro than Lotor."

"We were both in really bad places. We needed different things and a shit load of help, and we weren’t right for each other. We knew it, tried to make it work anyway, but we mutually agreed that neither of us would get any better with our problems if we stayed together, because we'd just enable each other to cope horribly. So, we broke it off and agreed to stay friends. We're still really close, but Matt is one hundred percent better for Shiro than I ever was."

"And you think Lotor is better for you?"

"I mean, he's not perfect, but at least in the end he offers financial stability. He has old money. It's not going away, so if I stay with him, then I know that at least I'll be able to live comfortably in that aspect."

"So, you'd rather live in luxury with someone who makes you miserable than not be sure of a future with someone who actually makes you happy?"

"I don't know if I'll actually ever find someone who would like me back enough for that. When I did, I ran headfirst into it and ruined it."

"Is that what happened with Plaxum?"

"Yeah... We got together, and she got pregnant really early in the relationship, but we decided we wanted to make it work and keep the baby... and well, you can see how well that turned out for us."

"Are you two still friends?"

"We keep in touch. I lost her number when Lotor deleted my contacts though. I feel like an idiot asking for it again. And I don't really want her knowing I'm dating Lotor right now."

"You seem like you don't want a lot of people knowing you're with Lotor."

"I really don't. Not until I can figure out how to explain it to them without criticism."

"Is that really hurting you?"

"Yeah... So much."

"Do you feel like I'm criticizing you?"

"To be honest? Yeah."

"Oh..." Keith's voice became softer, "I'm sorry."

"Look, it's fine. I get it. Everyone thinks I make horrible decisions, and I do. It's a fact. Lotor is probably another one, but I really just stopped caring. He's here to stay now, and everyone needs to accept it."

"Don't you want to be happy?"

"I don't think I can be." Lance confessed, moving out from behind Keith and placing the utensils he had been using into the bathroom sink. "Wait a little bit, and then we can wash it out."

"How long?"

"About half an hour probably."

"Can you tell me more while we wait?" Keith took his phone into his hand, setting the timer on it with a few taps of his thumb onto the glass screen.

"About? Lance quirked an eyebrow at his friend.

"I want to know more about why you're with Lotor. Why won't you tell people?" Keith's eyes laid their gaze onto Lance's hand, one of his own free appendages coming out and playing with the digits connected to it.

"I haven't told Hunk yet. I feel like he'll just be really mad at me, and I don't know if I can deal with being chewed out right now." Lance settled himself closer to Keith. "I think it's messed up our friendship though. I used to call him for stuff all the time, and now, we barely talk these days, and if we do, it's always with Pidge."

"Is that why you call me instead?"

"No. But I do feel like we've gotten closer. I like talking to you, and you make me feel good. I think about you a lot too. Maybe that's why you're the first one I call these days."

"I like being the person you call." Keith admitted, "I guess it makes me feel wanted. Useful."

"You've always been useful, handsome."

A small, short laugh came out of Keith before he playfully smacked Lance's arm.

"Hey, I'm just being honest. You're attractive. Maybe next time we shower together, I'll be sober, and we can have a little more fun."

"Oh my god." Keith rolled his eyes, his face showing anything but annoyance at Lance's words. "Why are you like this?"

"I told you last night. You're cute." Lance experimentally leaned in, though pulled back not long after to continue his statement, "Seriously though, I really do like having you around again. You should come over more. It's nice. Allura is really the only one who comes over like this anymore. Everyone else is pretty busy, and Pidge is at school." He lowered his voice to a mumble as he continued, "The cuddling is also really nice."

"I think I could probably make that happen." Keith reached his arms out, offering Lance the opportunity to come in close. Accepting it, Lance stripped off his shirt and settled himself into Keith's lap. Wrapping his arms around Lance, he leaned his head onto the other man's shoulder. "Was taking off your shirt really necessary?"

"Yes! I don't want all your hair dye to mess it up. I pay good money for my fashion choices."

"Well, now I have a nice view." Keith joked, playfully grazing his fingers over the newly exposed skin.

“Maybe if you’re good, you’ll get to see a bit more.” Lance pushed his face gently towards Keith’s neck as he spoke.

Keith strengthened his touch, placing a palm on the other man’s abs. “Oh, really now? Guess I’ll be an extra good boy for you tonight.”

Impulse took over, lips pressed themselves against Keith’s neck between his next words, “Then I’ll make you feel incredible.”

A soft hum escaped Keith, hands continuing to roam the skin Lance had exposed to him. He let Lance carry on, not a single complaint about the direction their actions was beginning to take them in. He pulled the other man closer to him, maneuvering Lance slightly in the process.

He shifted himself to place one knee on either side of Keith's legs, straddling him as he continued his actions on the section of Keith's skin he had chosen. Fighting the urge to run his fingers into the other man's hair, for fear of covering himself in the dye he had just helped his friend apply, he planted them onto Keith's hips, his index finger daring to move to the skin the fabric had been covering.

He wanted _more_. To touch exposed skin and press his lips against Keith's. Removing more fabric during the night became increasingly likely as each second passed, Lance feeling hands graze across the remaining muscles of his back as he dared to attach his mouth to one singular spot on Keith's neck. He let his own hands begin to roam, focusing on the feeling beneath them.

A knock sounded at the door, breaking both of them from the moment they had just shared.

"Lance! You've been hogging the bathroom!" Came Marissa's voice from the other side of the wood in question.

"Fuck." He cursed quietly, moving away from Keith before speaking louder, "Can't you use the one downstairs?"

"It doesn't lock."

"Yeah, so? It's not like anyone's here to barge in on you."

" _Lance._ " She whined.

"I'm dying Keith's hair. I need the shower. Use the one downstairs."

"Ugh, fine." Footsteps traveled away from the door, leaving the two left to sit on the cold tile as they processed the extremely recent events that had just occurred.

"Keith... I..." Lance began, at a loss for words at his own actions. He had crossed a line. He should have never even thought of Keith in such a way, yet he not only thought of Keith in a sexual manner, but also attempted to act on it.

He was despicable.

"Look, it's fine." Keith replied, as if his thoughts were out on another planet, just barely reaching him through the atmosphere of realization. The distance was thick. If it was a physical thing, Lance would have needed a machete to even make a dent in it.

He had fucked up. There was no way they could ever manage a friendship now. Keith knew just how attracted to him Lance was. And he _acted_ on it too. There was no way things could ever be the same again. There would be no more jokes. No more cuddling. No more moments together. Nothing. He had messed it all up for giving in to a dumb impulse. He was pathetic.

There was no way any of this would ever be okay again. Nothing he did could ever take it back. He was selfish. Nothing but a disgustingly selfish person who put his own needs above others. He could live without sex. And he could live without sex with Keith. But, no, he had to be fucking stupid and put his hands and mouth on him. He had to make his desires known. He had to put Keith in such a horrible situation. He just had to be such a horrible fucking person.

There had to be something he could do. Something he could say. Something. _Anything_.

"Keith..." He started, unsure of what his next words would be, just desperate to have words leave his mouth to express his guilt to Keith.

"I said it's fine, okay? Really, it is."

"But—"

Keith took Lance's hand into his, interlocking their fingers together.

He glanced at them. Eyes falling to where their fingers fit with one another.

He yanked his hand away.

"Lance?"

He refused to meet Keith's eyes, swiping the nearby bottle into his hand and bringing it to his lips without a second thought.

"Lance, no, please." Keith reached towards him, attempting to take the glass container away from his friend.

"I can drink if I want to." Lance said, "It fixes the anxiety anyway."

"Look, Lance, I don't want to fight with you." Keith did not reach again as he continued his words, "I promise you that I'm not upset. I don't want you to feel anxious over something that didn't even upset me. If you were bothering me, I would've just pushed you off me."

"But—"

"Look at me." Keith waited for Lance's gaze to meet his own. "I'm not mad." His hand came to stroke the skin of Lance's cheek. "I promise."

"I really like being your friend, I don't want to fuck up." Lance confessed.

"You didn't. I'm still here, right?"

He nodded.

"Then you're okay."

Lance wrapped his arms around Keith's waist, pulling himself into the other man. He pressed his face into the other man's shoulder, his nose brushing against the base of Keith's neck. Focusing on the contact, he let his hearing center in on his friend's voice. Evening his breathing to follow the numbers that left Keith's mouth, he found his peace before letting himself succumb completely to the panic that had arisen in him. Confident in where he stood with his anxiety, he pulled away to look at the man holding him. The soft look adorning Keith's face left no question about it. Keith had not lied. They would be okay, and everything was going to work.

Blue eyes found themselves caught on Keith's features. The way his eyes softened when he smiled, and how he flicked his tongue across his chapped lips a bit nervously while purple eyes met his. Lance's eyes quickly glanced to those same lips, then back up at the gaze he had just held with Keith.

Had Keith noticed? Would it upset him? Everything in him begged to take in every minuscule detail of Keith's lips, to let his eyes stay and fixate on how they moved, on how they would feel against his once more. Maybe... just maybe he could kiss Keith. Just one more time in his life, only to remember how it felt so many years ago. To feel that same burning spark that they had once naively thought would never be extinguished.

No. He had to stop. He could not be impulsive. He had to respect Keith. He could not keep putting his own wants above his friend's. If he was ever to have that type of contact with Keith, it would be on Keith's call. He had to hold himself to that.

Lance leaned the weight of his head into Keith's hands. He let his lips curl upwards as Keith's thumb stroked the skin it could reach.

"I'm really happy to have you in my life again. Don't let your anxiety tell you otherwise."

Lance gave him a slight nod, still letting himself revel in the attention he was receiving.

Keith leaned in slightly, pulling Lance's face towards him as he did so.

Was this it? Did Keith really want this as much as he did?

There was no way, this had to be fake. He was just tricking himself into this, letting himself get lost in his own lust to the point he could no longer understand the real meanings behind Keith's actions.

A ring echoed throughout the room, the tile amplifying the sound. Keith's hands broke away from Lance's face, scooping up the phone to silence it. "I can just wash it out now, right?"

"I, um, yeah. If it's not dark enough, we can put more dye in." Lance sat back onto his heels. "I, I'll leave the room so you can shower."

"It's on your skin a bit too. You can join me. I wasn't even really planning on stripping."

"No, it's fine. You can strip. I'll be in my room when you're done." Lance replied while rising to his feet. He grabbed his shirt and the glass bottle he had been drinking from before exiting the room. Stepping up the stairs, he pushed his way back into his bedroom. The bottle's rim made its way back to his lips for a small moment before he resigned it to the surface of his desk for the night. He pulled out a few moist wipes for himself, gazing into the mirror as he attempted to rid himself of the dye that had tried to make a new home on his face. Once he had checked his skin over twice, he tossed the used wipes into the trash and stepped towards the window. Hooking his fingers under part of the frame, he pushed it up to its limits. Hoisting himself up, he squeezed through the opening. Finding himself a semi-comfortable spot on the shingles, he took his seat.

He scrolled through his notifications for a few minutes. Any other time, he would have been all for answering, but, somehow, they all just seemed to bore him in the moment. Hunk and Pidge could wait. Shiro could wait. Lotor could wait. Every word and character would be there later. It was not as if they would leave. If he answered later, nothing would change.

Laying back, he let his eyes be drawn to the nighttime sky above him. Each light that littered it was really a trillion miles away. So far away from him. And he was so far away from them. It was humbling. He was nothing but a spec compared to the size of what was out there.

Back when he had still felt smart, still felt able to just go through college, nevertheless complete a degree, he had always felt that maybe one day he could learn more about the mysterious void above him. But, now, that dream felt nothing but stupid. He was never smart enough to finish a degree, especially not a degree in astrophysics. All he could do now was watch the beauty from afar, lying on his rooftop and staring into it by his lonesome.

Though, the stars managed to keep one thing that felt magical even now. No matter where he was, no matter where his loved ones roamed, they would always find themselves together under the same set of stars. In fact, it had been that exact thought that managed to bring him comfort when Keith had left town all those years ago. No matter where Keith had been in their large, dangerous world, he was still technically connected to Lance by the sheer fact that they existed on Earth together.

Of course, those thoughts faded fairly quickly once Lance realized that Keith's actions were actually really fucking shitty.

Either way, the thought itself was still comforting. He was never truly apart from any of his loved ones. They all existed together under the magnificent sight above them.

Footsteps sounded by him. Turning his head, he was able to make out a pair of feet carefully treading across the roof.

"Hey." Keith spoke, signaling his entrance into the area.

"Hey." Lance replied, moving his gaze back to the stars above him.

Keith took a seat next to him. "How does it look?"

"Its your hair. You tell me."

"I didn't want to look in the mirror."

"Oh... Sorry, I didn't..."

"It's okay."

"You doing alright?" Lance asked, tilting his head to catch a better glimpse of Keith.

"Yeah, I'll live."

A silence fell between them, both pairs of eyes focused intently on the night sky.

Keith was the first to speak, "Can... Can we talk about what happened?"

Lance tripped over his words, as if his tongue was made for that sole purpose, "Oh... Look. Keith, I'm really sorry I—"

"I think about you the same way." Keith blurted out, cutting Lance off.

Lance sprung up, eyes wide.

"I do. I do. I just... look, I, I want to have sex with you. But we need to talk about it first. I don't want to end up making a dumb fucking decision in the future before we can talk."

"Okay... I, I want you to be comfortable. If I'm getting too close and personal, don't hesitate to tell me."

"You've been fine." Keith assured. "Just... I, I don't want us to just start fucking now that we admitted it. I want to wait. If we do end up doing it..." Keith brought his hand to Lance's, holding the side of it gently. "I want us to both feel okay about it."

He locked their fingers together. "How long do you want to wait... because if we're admitting things, well, I want this pretty badly." When silence ran through the conversation for a moment, he added, "I'm sorry. I'm the worst."

"No. Things just changed, that's all."

"How so?"

"I'm not as comfortable with... certain things anymore." Purple eyes gazed off into the distance. The view below them was not the most amazing one to exist, but that did not seem to bother Keith in the slightest.

"And what would those be?"

"I need you to listen and not ask questions."

"I wouldn't challenge you on your comfort."

"I know, I know. But, a lot has happened."

Lance leaned towards him, pressing his lips to Keith's cheek. "I'm all ears."

"Well... shirt doesn't come off. Neither does the binder. At least not now. And no surprises. Ever. Also, protection. Always."

"Yeah, of course."

"Thanks for listening."

"It's a two person thing, you matter too. And If we're going to fuck, I want you to feel good."

"Is there anything you want to say?"

"So... Lotor and I aren't exactly monogamous. I can't date you, but we're allowed to screw around, and it's not cheating. So, I don't want you to worry about that. And, if this is going to be a thing between us, then I don't want you to even jokingly refer to it as anything close to cheating." Blue eyes scanned Keith's face for his reaction, zooming his focus in on every small detail that may or may not have changed as he spilled his words.

"I know you're a faithful man Lance. You don't have to worry about me thinking you're a bad person."

"Yeah... so how long are you thinking for the wait?" Lance pulled his knees to his chest, resting the side of his head on his right leg.

"I don't know. But, I do know I want you to be completely sober."

"Keith..."

"I just want to know that the first time this happens isn't because alcohol told you it was a good idea."

"Okay. I respect that."

"Can I kiss you?" The topic was sudden and disjointed from the rest of the conversation.

"What?" Lance's eyes darted over to Keith. There was no way that he had just heard those words from Keith's mouth. No way that Keith had just asked to _kiss him_.

"Can I kiss you?" Keith repeated, "After last night when you tried, I couldn't stop thinking about it, and how amazing it sounded."

"I," Lance began, words escaping him until the words began to process, "Oh!" Lance exclaimed, "Yes! Yes you can!"

Keith's hands came around Lance's face, cupping the other man's head into his gentle hold before pulling him closer. The gap was sealed. Nothing keeping the two apart as they found a moment in themselves.

Raising his hands to the rest of Keith's body, he let them settle higher up. One found home on the base of Keith's neck, the other threaded itself into Keith's newly dyed hair. He felt a smile grace his face. There was nothing that compared to this moment, nothing that could be as exhilarating as pressing his lips against Keith's so innocently under the night sky he loved so much.

Keith pulled away, pressing his forehead to his friend's and letting out a small, soft laugh before connecting his lips to Lance's once more.

The hand on Keith's neck slid off the area it had called home and found itself a new resting place on the other man's hip. Stroking the skin he could reach and refusing to bring more distance than necessary, Lance spoke, "If we're not going to do anything tonight, am I allowed to at least arrange to get myself some more kisses?"

Keith pushed Lance down to the shingles with one hand. "I think that can be arranged."


	26. Chapter 26

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lying usually only bites you later, reminding you of what a dumb idea it was to cover up in the first place. 
> 
> It was nice to know he wasn't the only one who did it though.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey, I know it's been a long time since the last chapter, and I wanted to apologize for another 2 month absence. In the most vague terms, my health hasn't been great. I've been seeing lots of doctors and getting different types of tests run, and while it's looking like everything is turning out to be manageable, it's taken a lot of time out of my schedule. So, despite how badly I want to be giving chapters to you guys, between health concerns and being a full time student who's involved on campus, I had to take a little break until everything settled, so I hope everyone understands. I've also already started the next chapter, so there's that to look forward to :)
> 
> So, without any further hold ups, here's the next chapter.

Lance drummed his fingers against the faux leather steering wheel, eyes glued to the red light holding up his travels. Keith sat next to him, clad in the same maroon hoodie he had appeared in days earlier and playing with an unopened pack of cigarettes, nail scratching at the plastic as his eyes never moved high enough to peer out the windshield.

He removed his right hand from the steering wheel, offering it to Keith. Once he felt another set of fingers between his own, he spoke, “Hey, you doing okay?”

“I don’t know.” Keith replied honestly, eyes memorizing the package he had gotten to know just a little bit too well over the last few years.

“Look, I know it’s probably not what you want to hear after everything, but Shiro loves you. He loves you a whole lot, and I know he’s got some major issues. Maybe he feels so compelled to keep a tight hold on you, because he’s lost every other family member he’s had. But overall, he’s a good guy who just wants to see you happy. Trust me.” Lance released his foot from the break.

“Easy for you to say.” Keith replied, “You’re not the one about to face his judgement.”

“Yeah, I know. But look, I’ve been there too. You think he hasn’t questioned me and my decisions before?”

“You couldn’t understand what it feels like to deal with what I went through, just to have it feel like it was all your fault.” Keith’s nail left marks across the plastic in his hands.

“Well, no, I can’t understand, because you won’t tell me. But I want to understand, so I’m here whenever you’re ready to talk.” Lance flipped on his right blinker before turning the vehicle onto another street.

“I don’t feel comfortable talking about it yet. But… but I lied. I lied to Shiro, and I know that was a stupid thing to do, but I couldn’t just say what happened. How could I just admit that I let anything like that happen to me?” Keith’s voice broke as the previous sentence fell from his mouth, “It’s easier to keep pretending it’s nothing but my own damn fuck ups.”

“Alright, I’m going to stop you right there, because you didn’t ‘let’ anything happen to you. I don’t know what it is that’s hurting you, but saying you let it happen is like saying I let some of my extended family refuse to talk to me. No. You were a victim, because someone was an asshole.”

“I need to stop talking about it.” Keith’s words came out slightly frantic as if he was managing to suppress a certain level of panic inside of himself with the subject matter.

Lance gave Keith’s hand a gentle squeeze. “Look, we don’t have to talk about it. But, know that whatever happened, Shiro isn’t mad at you. If anything, he’s mad at the world, because its making you hurt so badly. If he wants to see anyone be happy, you’re definitely one of those people.”

Keith gave him a small nod before continuing to fiddle with the box he had kept in his hands.

“If Shiro got mad at people for making bad decisions anyway, well, he wouldn’t hang out with me, that’s for sure. So, remember that. Shiro still hangs out with me, I constantly fuck up, and we’re not even related, so he has no reason to pretend he likes me.” Lance pulled into the parking lot, a five story building to his right, before turning his key.

“You have more redeeming qualities than I do.” Keith deflected.

A pair of hands took Keith’s head into their hold, guiding him just close enough to let Lance press a kiss to his friend’s cheek. “It’s all going to go well, I promise. And, if for some weird reason it doesn’t, you can stay with me a bit longer. Deal?”

“Will you come in with me?” Keith asked, pulling himself out of Lance’s reach.

“Yeah, of course.” Lance pulled his car mirror down, inspecting himself and adjusting the turtle neck that he adorned.

“I hope you know the turtleneck only makes it more obvious.” Keith said exiting the car.

“Not my fault you insisted on leaving marks literally everywhere.” Lance retorted.

Keith made his way around the vehicle, stepping into Lance’s personal bubble before speaking, “Can you really blame me?”

Lance pulled Keith closer by his wrists and leaned in. “Only if you can’t blame me for getting handsy.”

“I can’t.” Keith wrapped his arms around Lance’s neck, resting them on his shoulders as he let his bodyweight fall into his friend’s.

Lance carded his fingers through dark hair, using his free hand to hold Keith closer to him. Pressing a kiss to Keith’s head, he spoke, “You feeling okay?”

“I don’t think I’m getting any better.” Keith admitted, keeping himself pressed against Lance.

Lance reluctantly unwrapped himself from Keith, pressing the lock on the key fob before slipping his fingers between Keith’s own. “I’ll be right here the whole time.”

“I don’t deserve you.”

“No. You don’t. You deserve better.”

“Cut it out. You need to value yourself some more.”

Lance rubbed the back of his neck with his free hand. “Yeah, okay. I guess I can try.”

“Even if you don’t feel it yourself, you’re important to me. I think that should stand for something.”

“I… it does. I promise, it does.” Lance pressed the button at the door of the building, letting Keith speak his greetings into it before stepping inside. The ride up was short, silent, the pre-encounter anxiety radiating off Keith and filling the small, enclosed elevator. He gave Keith’s hand an affectionate squeeze, turning his head to face the troubled man. Purple eyes kept themselves roaming, unable to attach to any one thing in particular, nimble fingers playing with the maroon hoodie strings that fell over his chest.

Large metal doors parted ways, opening up to the light steel blue walls of the building’s interior. Stepping along the carpeted floors, his hand never left Keith’s as he raised his other to knock against the hardwood door.

The object swung inwards, revealing Matt standing in front of them, clad in an oversized sweatshirt and blue flannel pajama pants. “Hey, Keith. You feeling any better?”

“Yeah… I think.” Keith replied, “Can I come in?”

“No. You can’t come in. You’re banned forever.” Matt said sarcastically, stepping aside to let the duo inside, “Shiro just got out of the shower. I’ll let him know you’re back.”

Watching their friend move into his shared bedroom, they each took a seat on the couch. The same blankets that had once been scattered across the cushions were now folded neatly across the back of the sectional. Not too long ago, the same area had been littered with blankets, a pillow, and a sleeping Keith. Now, even when things had been going well in the house, Keith had taken Matt’s old room, just maybe symbolizing his intent to stay for a longer period of time than he initially intended.

Lance stretched an arm behind Keith, resting it on the other man’s shoulders as Keith came closer to him. The black head of hair rested on the side of his chest as purple eyes fought to stay open.

“Tired?” Lance answer, turning his head towards Keith.

Keith nodded.

“Just a little longer, and you can take a nap, okay?”

“Nap with me.” Keith requested.

The door to Shiro and Matt’s bedroom swung open, Shiro quickly exiting and rushing towards Keith in a black t-shirt and gray sweatpants. His prosthetic had not yet been attached for the morning, and his hair had forgotten to be properly groomed. “Your… your hair…”

Keith looked at Shiro, eyes falling onto the strands connected to Shiro’s hair, “Did… Did you dye your hair white?”

Shiro’s hand came to the back of his neck, rubbing at the skin there, “Yeah.”

“Why?”

“I knew you were self conscious about your new hair color, and I felt like every time I tried to talk things out with you, it wasn’t working. I know you show a lot of your affection and caring with actions, so I figured I’d try and use actions to show you that I care. If you looked dumb with white hair, then I decided I would look dumb with you.” Shiro let out a laugh before continuing, “But I guess it doesn’t have the same effect now.”

Keith let out a small laugh alongside him, “I appreciate it still. I think it looks better on you anyway.”

“Well, I hope the sentiment is still there.” Shiro replied.

“It is.” Keith reached over, hugging his brother. “Thank you.”

Shiro returned the action before going on with the conversation, “I wanted to let you know, I’m sorry. I’m really, really sorry. I’ve been getting very on your case, and I can see why you think I don’t trust you. But, I do. I’m going to try and be better about letting you make your own decisions and not interfering. And, please, don’t ever think that I think it’s your fault that any of these bad things happened to you. You were a victim, and I’m not going to blame you.”

“I know you care. It’s just hard to believe it sometimes, and that’s not your fault.” Keith looked down for a moment, then back up at Shiro, “I spent a lot of time with someone who was absolutely horrible to me and told me he loved me at the same time, and… and I think that really fucked me up. It’s hard for me to think anyone actually means what they say.”

“I know.” Shiro responded, “And I want you to heal. But, I also want to have a good relationship with you. We’re family. We have to have each other’s backs. I don’t want to fight anymore, because we’re on different pages.”

“I don’t either.”

“So, if I bring up a suggestion, would you consider it?” Shiro asked.

Keith nodded.

“I did a lot of thinking and reflecting over the last couple days, because I really do want to have a healthier relationship with you. And Lance is right, I have treated you as if you’re Ryou and could lose him again, but you’re not him. So, I did a lot of searching online, and I found a family therapist with good reviews. He’s LGBT friendly according to others, so I know that would make us both feel more comfortable. You wouldn’t have to hide your gender identity from him. Any thoughts?” Shiro asked, intently watching Keith’s changing facial expressions.

“I… we can try it.”

Shiro gave his brother a smile, then continued on a similar train of thought, “I also wanted to say that I know my PTSD has made things difficult, and I am extremely grateful to have such amazing people in my life who have stuck by me through every moment since they met me. But, I know there’s a point I need to really get serious about working on dealing with it if I want a higher quality of life. So, I found a therapist to start seeing.”

“Are you serious?” Lance asked, tuning into the conversation.

“I am.” Shiro answered. “I can’t keep denying I have a problem.”

“Are you going to stick with it?” Lance’s fingers moved to play with Keith’s own.

“I’m going to do my best. I know this is the best way to make myself happier, as well as have healthier relationships with everyone but especially everyone in this room. You’re all incredibly important to me, and I want my actions to reflect that.”

Keith moved forward, embracing Shiro tightly.

Shiro returned the action, then continued after pulling away, “I know I can’t force you to get help, but I do hope that you’ll do the same. I think a personal therapist would really help you. Whether or not you think you have a problem, it would benefit you to just have someone professional to talk to. You too, Lance.”

“I…” Lance turned his head away. “Lotor doesn’t like me seeing therapists…”

“Lance, that’s not okay.” Matt took a seat next to him.

“Really, it’s fine.” Lance dismissed.

“Alright, let’s put it this way. What if Shiro came to you and told you I was refusing to let him see a therapist? How would you feel then? What would you tell him?” Matt pressed.

“Okay, but Shiro has a lot of trauma he needs to talk out with someone. So, it’s different.” Lance’s gaze fell to the floor.

“And you don’t?” Keith whipped his head around to look at Lance.

“I—” Lance started.

“No. You can’t argue this.” Keith stated strongly.

“Lance, do you really think you haven’t been traumatized at all?” Shiro turned his body to have a better view of his friend.

“I mean, maybe a little. Nothing that bad though. I’m just a bit more anxious. But I’ve always been an anxious person.” Lance pointed out.

“There’s a difference between general anxiety and anxiety specific to certain things. And I know certain things that cause you severe anxiety that shouldn’t in someone who hasn’t had experiences like yours.” Shiro replied, defending his statement.

“Yeah, but I still function fine.” Lance waved his hand in front of his face as he spoke, “Look, I don’t want to talk about this right now, okay?”

“That doesn’t mean we’re not talking about it later.” Shiro got up from his place on the couch.

“Hey Lance, I need you to help with something in my room real quick.” Keith interrupted, shifting the topic and giving Lance a temporary escape. He rose to his feet and made a path towards his bedroom, letting Lance follow him through the door frame before enclosing them both into the space.

“I think you should take his advice.” Keith began.

“Look, I’m tired of everyone thinking they know what’s best for me. I’m an adult. I can make my own choices.” Lance retorted.

“Lotor’s making your choices!” Keith snapped.

“Did you pull me in here just to tell me everything I’m doing wrong? Cause Shiro could’ve done that for you.”

“No. I wanted to bring it up alone. I care about you, a lot. It hurts knowing that you’re keeping yourself from proper help because of what Lotor thinks.” Keith sat back on the bed, taking a pause to inhale deeply. “I don’t want to fight.”

“I’m alright. If I wasn’t, I’d do something about it, I promise.”

“I believe you.” Keith continued, “I just worry, because I want you to be okay.”

“And I am.”

“Okay.” A silence fell between them before Keith spoke once more, “Thanks… by the way. For being there for me.”

A small smile tugged at Lance’s lips. “Of course, Keith. Wouldn’t of dreamt of leaving you to deal with everything alone.”

“I’m guessing you’re leaving now?” Keith’s eyes shifted to the floor.

“Yeah… I’ve got work today.” When Keith’s face fell, Lance stepped closer. He took one of Keith’s hands into his own, intertwining their fingers. “I’ll think about you though.”

A smirk found its way onto Keith’s face, his free hand resting on Lance’s shoulder. “Promise?”

“Promise.” He replied before being met with Keith’s lips against his own.

* * *

Lance pressed the key into the door, turning it and removing it before placing it back in his pocket. The sun had set hours ago, but at least he had been lucky enough this time to actually see it in the sky before clocking in.

He pressed his thumb into the key fob in his hand, watching as the headlights to his car lit up for a brief moment. Stepping into his vehicle, he locked the doors behind him. Shoving his key into the car, he waited to hear the hum of the engine before cranking up the heat. Pulling his phone from his back pocket, he sunk back into his seat and brought the screen to his eyes. Focusing in on his notifications, he thumbed through each one absentmindedly, pausing only at an odd grouping.

_Missed Call from Prince Charming (4)_

The notification was followed by a string of texts, some calm, others laced with profanities and words Lance had a strong feeling were unfortunately meant as descriptions of himself.

He dropped his phone into his lap. Sighing, his hands met his face, pulling the skin down as he moved them. Hopefully, he would pull it right off and die of blood loss and not have to deal with Lotor’s new complaint of the week.

Of course, he had to have done something wrong by just existing. His mere presence on Earth seemed to cause Lotor to be upset about one thing or another every time the other man’s life was not going one-hundred percent perfectly.

His next movements were like pulling teeth, forcing himself to step into a conversation he was well aware would only end in screaming and tears. Yet, for some reason, he did so anyway. Every time. No matter how many times his gut twisted and told him what a bad idea speaking with Lotor was at times, he always managed to find himself stuck in conversation after conversation, fight after fight, despite his better senses.

Long fingers pressed against the phone screen several times, and the bluetooth of the car echoed the dial tone Lance was met with.

“Who gave you a hickey?” The words were stern and unmoving.

“Wow, not even a hello? How’s your day, Lance? Mine was good—”

“I don’t have time for your bullshit right now. Tell me who gave you a hickey.” Lotor snapped.

“And that’s your business _how_?” Lance retorted.

“I’m your boyfriend. That’s how its my business.” Lotor continued, “I’m allowed to know who you’re whoring around with.”

“I’m not a whore! It’s not my fault someone was _nice_ to me for once, and I wanted to take advantage of our open relationship. Remember? The thing you agreed to!”

“You also sleep with anyone who gives you half an ounce of attention.”

“Oh fuck off. You don’t know shit about my sex life outside of you.”

“You expect me to believe nothing ever happened between you and your friend Shiro? Or Keith?” Lotor scoffed.

“Both of those details are none of your business.”

“So, you did fuck them both.”

“Seeing as Keith is my _ex-boyfriend_ , yes I have fucked him.”

“And I’m supposed to believe you’re not fucking him now?”

“Even if I was, it doesn’t matter. You said we could both fool around with other people.” Lance reminded.

“I should’ve known you only wanted that rule to be a slut.”

“Fuck you. _You’re_ the one who cheated on _me_. I was always faithful to you!”

“Sure.” Lotor replied disinterestedly.

“Why are you like this? Something goes wrong in your own day, and you search for a way to take it out on me!” Lance snapped, “I don’t give you shit for hanging out with Acxa still. Are you supposed to be trustworthy?”

“You believe me as much as I believe you I suppose.”

“And what’s that supposed to mean?”

“Take it as you will.”

“You’re an ass.”

“And that attitude says more about you than me right now.” The line went dead on Lotor’s side, ending the call prematurely, and if Lance knew anything about Lotor, it was a move done intentionally.

Of course it was his fault. He was always in the wrong, was he not? Every decision he made, every action he took somehow always managed to end with him in a similar situation, pleading with Lotor’s anger towards him. No matter what exactly Lance had gotten himself into, all that he knew was that Lotor would be waiting at the end to rip him a new one despite the fact that he could not be further from the true reason for Lotor’s emotional outbursts.

A sigh escaped his lips as he let his head fall against the steering wheel with a small thud. Maybe Lotor was right. Maybe Lance was only flocking to Keith, because he was the first scrap of positive attention he had gotten outside of a platonic context in a while.

Outside of platonic? No. Keith was still under the friend label, even if the two of them had crossed physical boundaries last night. He could not consider him anything else. If he let himself slip into the false idea that he could have anything close to romantic with Keith again, it would end up with him drowning in misery once more. Friends with benefits still had friend in the title anyway, right?

Maybe platonic was not the right word, but romance was also nowhere near the connotation he needed to assign to Keith’s actions towards him as well.

It did not matter. In the end, he was with Lotor, not Keith, and he would never have Keith even if he ever wanted to.

Not that he did. No. He was not deserving of him anyway. Even if Keith did somehow magically have a genuine interest in him, it would be short lived anyway.

He moved the car into drive, pressing on the gas and silently begging the world to not throw another curveball his way. Was he really in the wrong? Lotor and him had agreed on this arrangement anyway. It was not exactly cheating if he fooled around with Keith. He never agreed to be exclusive with Lotor in the first place. If Lotor was losing his temper over it, then he should of mentioned it earlier, right?

Lance rolled into the driveway, sliding the vehicle into park and stepping out onto the ground. A familiar vibration came from his pocket. Would Lotor not leave him be? He already expressed his anger towards Lance not even an hour ago. He did not need to continue on with insults to get the point across. Preparing to swipe away the message, Lance rose the phone to meet his eyes.

 

Pidget Spinner  
  
I'm bored. Want to video chat?  


Oh… Well, it was not as if video chatting with a friend necessarily felt like a bad idea. In fact, maybe it was just the pick me up he needed after the shit show that had just occurred. Closing the car door behind him, he tapped out a response.

 

Pidget Spinner  
  
Sure. Let me get my laptop  


He pressed his key into the front door, unlocking it and letting himself inside. Turning the lock behind him, he stepped up the stairs, pleading with whatever puppet master was in charge of his life that he would manage to make it to his bedroom without any impromptu interruptions from his family members.

Closing the door behind him, he continued up the next flight of stairs, snagging his laptop from his desk and collapsing back onto his comforter. He popped it open and pulled up Pidge’s contact before initiating a call. Lance’s face popped onto the screen in front of him, and a ringer sounded for a few moments. A video of Pidge pushed his own image to the corner as she greeted him.

“Hey, Lance.” Pidge greeted. Her hair was tied into a messy bun that fell apart by her ears, and she adorned an oversized sweater.

“Hey.” Lance breathed out as he spoke, sinking further into his pillows.

“Everything alright? You seem down.” She commented, leaning towards the screen, though Lance had a feeling something else was pulled up on the screen.

“Guy troubles.” Lance replied without further elaboration.

“Lotor or Keith?” The clack of her keyboard sounded in the background of her side of the call.

“Why is everyone assuming I have a thing with Keith?!” Lance exclaimed, “And what makes you think I want to see Lotor?”

“Process of elimination. Your behavior in the last few months points to someone new being in your life who you don’t want to tell us about. And you love to have your significant others be friends with your friends, which means part of you is afraid of being rejected for your new partner. Last time you brushed off all the romance questions and you weren’t looking for a relationship was when you were seeing Shiro—”

“Woah, woah, woah. Hold up.” Lance threw his hands up in front of him. “I didn’t date Shiro!” He broke eye contact with his friend and ended the statement with a nervous laugh.

“Lance, we _all_ knew. You and Shiro weren’t as subtle as you thought you were. You’re also the type of person who doesn’t like to be alone, so if you’re not looking for someone, then you found someone. And you had a prolonged period of contentment with being ‘single’.” She put the last word in air quotes.

Lance pushed his fingers through his hair. “Am I really that pathetically needy?”

“You’re not pathetic. You just have a need for external validation.”

“Since when did you know all this fancy lingo? Last time I checked, you’re the same person who said she’d rather live her life with a robot roommate.”

“I had to take psychology for a gen ed.”

“Valid.” Lance replied, “Okay, so then tell me why everyone thinks I have a thing with Keith.”

“Ever since you guys started talking again, you’ve started spending a disproportionate time with Keith. The pda also isn’t helping your case either. You two cuddle all the time.” Pidge explained, “Oh, and Matt called me today. He said Keith slept over at your house for a few days, and well, have you looked in a mirror?”

“Hey! These could’ve been from Lotor!” Lance rebutted.

“I know too much about Keith after living with him, and let me just say, I’ve had the utmost displeasure of meeting some of his hookups. He… doesn’t have the best taste in men.” Pidge shook her head, forcing herself back on track, “Anyway, I wouldn’t be surprised if that guy turned out to be a vampire with the amount of hickeys he would leave on them.”

“Okay fine. Yeah, Keith left them. But we didn’t have sex.”

“Sure.” Pidge replied teasingly, a smug look crawling onto her face.

“I’m serious. Trust me, I wanted to. But, he didn’t. So, we made out a lot. But Lotor is mad at me for it now.”

“I mean, yeah. I would be too, Lance.”

“It’s not like that. We’re not sexually exclusive.” Lance clarified, “But he’s still mad at me.”

“Then you should talk about it together.”

“Lotor doesn’t discuss things. He has a fit until it goes his way.”

“Then break up if you’re not happy? I’m sorry, Lance. I’m bad at navigating relationships.”

Lance let out a sigh, “It’s okay Pidge. I’ll figure it out eventually.”

“Just do what makes you happy.” Pidge returned her focus to whatever was pulled up on her computer screen. After a prolonged silence, she spoke again, “Can I ask you something?”

“Shoot.”

“So, I was talking to Hunk the other day,”

Of course she was. The three of them used to video chat and text fairly often, yet as time went on, it always seemed as if his two friends had forged a closer friendship than they had with him. While he had no evidence that the two made plans without him, it was fairly obvious that they had to of had time together excluding him. Honestly, the whole scenario was nothing but a horrid reminder of how replaceable he was. He was not needed. He was nothing but an afterthought.

Pidge continued, “He feels hurt. Are you ignoring him?”

“I…” Lance opened his mouth to continue, then closed it.

“Did he do something wrong?” She asked.

“No. I just… seeing Lotor and all… I didn’t want to disappoint him by going back. So I just… didn’t talk to him about Lotor, and he’s been the majority of my life right now, well him and Keith.” Blue eyes moved to gaze as the comforter beneath him, “And Hunk always said don’t date exes so…”

“Hunk cares about you. He’s still going to be there for you even if you make questionable choices with your love life.” Pidge assured.

“I guess…”

“Just reach out. Let him know what’s going on.”

“I will.”

“Thanks. Also… since you and Keith are… _you know_ , do you still want to room with Hunk for our lake house trip? Or do you want me to have you and Keith share a room?” Pidge asked, moving to write something down on a piece of paper on her desk.

“Nah. I think it’s best if I share the room with Hunk… It’ll make sure he knows I’m not replacing him with Keith.”

“Alright. I’ll let Matt know.” The sound of a door opening entered the call on Pidge’s side, “My roommate’s home. I have to go. I’ll text you.”

“Night, Pidge.”

“Night.”

The call cut, leaving Lance to do nothing but stare at his own pathetic face. Lotor was mad, Keith probably would be eventually too for one reason or another, and Hunk thought he hated him. Each and every scenario fueled by nothing but his own terrible selfish actions, only aware of his own feelings in all of it. If he was a better person, maybe Hunk would of told him personally, but no, he must have come off so horrible that he was deemed unapproachable. It was no wonder that no one ever wanted to choose him first for anything. He was nothing but a gross excuse of a person.

Leaning his head back, he gazed up at the ceiling. He had fucked up. He always fucked up.

**Author's Note:**

> Again, feel free to follow [my Tumblr](http://www.imaginationcubed.tumblr.com)! I post regular updates and notes about my fanfictions and progress there and I'm open to answering questions there as well. Or just come and talk to me about Voltron!


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